PORT  FOLIO 


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:rs'  Book  S, 


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"«'«'  i,  I'jA.i  ».*'',.«"<  «.""«  it  A  , 


THE 


AMERICAN 


ABORIGINAL   PORTFOLIO, 


BY 


MRS.   MARY   H.   EASTMAN. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY 

S.  EASTMAN,  U.  S.  ARMY. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
LIPP1NCOTT,    GRAMBO   &   CO. 


Entered}  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853, 

BY  LIPPINCOTT,   ORAMBO   4   CO., 
In  tho  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eustern  District  of  Pennsylvania 


P  K  E  F  A  C  E. 


"  THERE  is  something  infinitely  more  touching  in  the  death  of  the  lowest  beggar, 
than  in  that  of  the  highest  potentate  upon  earth.  The  little  he  has  to  lose  speaks 
so  bitterly  of  the  little  he  has  enjoyed." 

This  is  emphatically  true  of  the  Indian,  as  an  individual,  and  as  a  nation. 

The  former,  wearied  with  an  existence  often  protracted,  made  up  of  poverty, 
suffering,  and  degradation,  readily  assents  to  a  belief  in  that  country  divided  from 
him  only  by  a  long  path  and  a  deep  river. 

These  passed,  he  has  a  full  entrance  to  an  immortality  of  happiness,  in  the 
society  of  the  sage  and  the  warrior,  and  where  the  smile  of  woman  beams  forth 
upon  him  for  ever. 

As  a  nation,  the  remark  is  equally  correct.  The  Indian  yields  his  home  and 
country,  convinced,  after  a  few  ineffectual  efforts  at  resistance,  that  there  is  no 
alternative.  He  hears  the  quickly  advancing  tread  of  civilization,  and  with  a  sad 
heart,  makes  room  for  the  intruder.  He  feels  his  inferiority,  believing  too,  in  the 
inscrutable  decrees  of  fate.  He  goes,  hoping  to  find  another  home;  he  will,  at 
least  for  a  time,  possess  a  refuge  where  he  can  honor  his  laws,  his  customs,  and  his 
gods.  Thus  the  death  of  a  nation  resembles  that  of  the  individual.  Neither  has 
wealth  or  greatness  to  lose ;  neither  can  be  dispossessed  of  that  rare  jewel,  happi 
ness.  For  can  that  nation  be  a  happy  one,  where  the  murderer  finds  a  city  of 
refuge  in  every  heart  but  the  one  he  has  injured  ?  and  who  would  accuse  the  war 
rior,  with  his  ungoverned  passions,  or  the  woman,  with  her  superstition  and  degra 
dation,  of  being  happy  ? 

The  Indian,  delighting  in  war  and  in  glorious  deeds,  is  yet  ignorant  of  the 
greatest  victory  of  which  man  is  capable — the  conquering  of  one's  self.  His  sorrows 


M8S0490 


iv  PREFACE. 

are  not  sanctified  to  him ;  he  does  not  come  from  them  holy  and  great.  He  has 
not  heard  of  the  Refiner  who  sits  watching  when  the  precious  metal  is  heated  to 
the  greatest  degree  necessary  for  its  purifying,  and  then  withdraws  it  from  the  fire 
which  has  done  its  work.  He  has  philosophy  to  submit,  and  fortitude  to  endure, 
but  he  knows  not  of  the  great  and  living  principle  that  brings  hope  to  the  sufferer 
in  his  hour  of  trial.  He  knows  not ;  and  why  ?  Have  there  been  none  who  were 
willing  to  teach  the  Indian  what  so  much  concerns  all  men  to  know  ? 

More  than  two  centuries  ago,  the  Jesuit  fathers  were  laboring  zealously  in 
Canada.  While  all  worked  with  energy,  there  is  no  doubt  many — some,  at  least — 
were  anxious  to  convert  and  save  immortal  souls.  Champlain  declared,  "  The  con 
version  of  one  soul  is  worth  more  than  the  conquest  of  an  empire." 

The  Jesuit  labored  on  the  rugged  and  rocky  shores  of  our  lakes  and  rivers,  and 
in  the  deep  recesses  of  our  forests.  Not  only  the  waves  and  solitudes  echoed  his 
voice,  but  the  deep  tones  of  the  savage  Iroquois  and  Huron  harmonized  Avith  his,  in 
singing  the  hymns  of  the  Church.  We  may  denounce  the  society,  but  we  must 
honor  and  love  the  memory  of  the  man;  for  how  many  of  "the  Order  of  Jesus" 
fell  sacrifices  to  their  zeal !  The  blood  of  their  martyrs  witnesses  against  the  men 
who  will  condemn  each  of  the  fathers  in  the  name  of  the  society  to  whose  power 
they  felt  themselves  obliged  to  submit. 

No  difficulties  daunted,  no  dangers  appalled  them ;  they  seemed  indeed  to  have 
left  home  and  friends  to  serve  Him  whose  name  they  bore.  That  they  did  not 
accomplish  lasting  good  was  because  their  zeal  was  without  knowledge. 

And  not  alone  does  their  zeal  deserve  to  be  remembered ;  their  courage,  their 
patience,  their  benevolence,  should  be  spoken  of  and  imitated  by  those  who  have 
been  set  apart  for  the  task  of  winning  souls  to  Christ. 

The  Jesuits  devoted  themselves  to  learning  and  to  self-improvement,  that  they 
might  be  all  things  to  all  men.  Many  of  them,  deprived  of  advantages  in  early 
life,  sought  to  remedy  this  by  the  most  untiring  and  constant  application.  Here 
they  had  the  example  of  their  founder,  Ignatius  Loyola.  In  the  prime  of  manhood 
"  he  sat  down  with  children  to  learn  the  Latin  grammar."  Nor  do  we  remember 
him  only  as  a  student.  He  was  enthusiastic,  ever  careless  of  his  own  good,  seek 
ing  the  good  of  others.  Strange  that  so  much  dark  cunning,  deceit,  and  crime, 
should  have  disgraced  the  lives  of  his  followers  ! 


PREFACE.  v 

The  Indian,  in  many  instances,  opened  his  heart  to  receive  the  kindness  offered 
him.  How  could  he  but  love  the  strangers  who  had  come  uninvited  and  unre 
warded  to  do  him  good  ! 

The  Jesuits,  if  we  sift  their  motives,  had  nothing  to  gain  personally  in  their 
course  towards  the  Indians.  What  has  been  done  by  the  people  of  the  United 
States  ?  Has  their  policy  been  dictated  by  the  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion  ? 
Ask  any  intelligent  Indian  now  living,  and,  were  it  possible,  call  back  the  spirits  of 
the  dead,  and  what  answer  should  we  receive  ? 

Yet  has  many  a  Protestant  missionary  labored  long  and  faithfully  to  bring  the 
Aborigines  of  our  country  to  a  knowledge  of  their  Creator.  Elliot,  and  Brainerd, 
and  others,  met  with  some  success,  though  working  with  many  drawbacks.  As  the 
different  tribes  of  Indians,  once  mighty  peoples,  in  our  country,  are  dwindling  away, 
some  almost  forgotten,  so  have  those  who  labored  for  their  welfare,  temporal  and 
eternal,  passed  from  the  earth,  even  their  names  unknown.  It  is  still  so.  Pro 
testant  missionaries  are  living  among  the  Indians  in  our  day  ;  they  are  translating 
the  Bible  into  their  languages ;  they  are  teaching  them — endeavoring  to  ameliorate 
and  elevate  their  condition  on  earth,  and  to  fit,  for  the  destiny  that  awaits  them, 
their  immortal  souls.  Yet  they  see  them  clinging  to  the  faith  of  their  ancestors, 
offering  sacrifices  to  senseless  gods,  worshipping  they  know  not  what.  Though 
making  but  little  progress,  the  heart  of  the  missionary  faints  not.  He  will  work 
while  it  is  day,  hoping  in  the  end  to  see  some  testimony  to  his  efforts. 

Reader  !  if  thou  but  glance  over  these  pages,  thou  wilt  see  faithfully  depicted  the 
time-honored  customs  of  the  Aborigines  of  America. 

Should  the  scenes  represented  interest  thee,  the  fallen  condition  of  this  noble 
race  will  awaken  a  feeling  of  sympathy  in  thy  heart. 

Reflect  how  short  an  interval  of  time  has  passed  since  they  owned  all  our 
glorious  land,  and  without  regarding  the  future,  what  are  they  now  ? 

MARY  H.  EASTMAN. 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  July  27,  1853. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

RED  JACKET,         .  9 

ITASCA  LAKE,            ....  .14 

LANDING  OP  DE  SOTO  AT  TAMPA  BAY,    ...  19 

STRIKING  THE  POST,           ....  .           .      24 

THE  DEATH-WHOOP,      ...  26 

TRANSPORTING  THE  WOUNDED,             . '  .28 

INDIAN  BURIAL,              ........  31 

THE  MEDICINE-MAN,             .            .            .            .            .            .            .            .  .            .34 

MEDICINE-DANCE  OF  THE  WINNEBAGOES,            ...            .            .  .            .            37 

DACOTA  ENCAMPMENT, .39 

DACOTA  VILLAGE,          .  .  . 41 

DANCE  TO  THE  GIANT, 44 

DOG-DANCE  OP  THE  DACOTAS, 46 

GUARDING  THE  CORN-FIELDS, .           .           .48 

GATHERING  WILD  RICE, 51 

INDIAN  WOMAN  PROCURING  FUEL,       .....  .53 

BALL-PLAY  ON  THE  ICE,          ...'...  .55 

SPEARING  MUSKRATS  IN  WINTER,         ...  .58 

SHOOTING  FISH, 61 

SPEARING  FISH  IN  WINTER .     6» 

SPEARING  FISH  FROM  A  CANOE,      ....  .                       65 

INDIAN  WOMAN  DRESSING  A  BUFFALO-SKIN,           .  ...      69 

INDIAN  MODE  OF  TRAVELING,          .....  73 

INDIAN  SUGAR  CAMP,         ......  .75 

EMIGRANTS  ATTACKED  BY  THE  CAMANCHES,                           .  ~\  78 

INDIANS  IN  COUNCIL,  .  .  . 81 


EASTMAN'S 


AMERICAN  ABORIGINAL  PORTFOLIO, 


KED   JACKET. 

THE    LAST    OF    THE    SENEGAS. 

ML 

IT  is  impossible  to  trace  back  to  the  birth  of  the  Seneca  nation,  or  to  find  aught 
concerning  its  early  history.  The  tradition  of  the  Senecas  is,  that  they  "  broke 
from  the  earth,  from  the  crest  of  a  mountain,"  at  the  head  of  Canandaigua  Lake. 
This  mountain,  that  gave  them  birth,  they  called  Ge-nun-de-wah-gaub,  or  the  Great 
Hill.  Hence,  the  Senecas  were  often  called  the  Great  Hill  People. 

This  nation  was  a  powerful  one,  belonging  to  the  confederacy  called  "  United 
People,"  or  "  Five  Nations."  Subsequently,  the  Tuscaroras  were  permitted  to  join 
the  confederacy,  which  was  afterwards  called  "  The  Six  Nations."  These  tribes  of 
Indians  occupied  the  region  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  lakes, 
and  of  the  Mohawk  River,  while  their  conquests  were  extended  even  to  the  Che 
rokee  country.  And  not  alone  were  they  a  terror  to  other  Indians,  the  early  set 
tlers  of  our  country  had  reason  even  to  fear  their  name ;  for,  besides  that  they 
delighted  in  war,  the  national  honor  of  the  United  People  was  dear  to  them.  In 
their  councils  the  chief  Sachem  presided.  When  they  had  decided  upon  war,  he 
took  up  the  tomahawk  and  cried,  "  Who  among  you  will  go  and  fight  against  his 
enemy  ?  Who  among  you  will  bring  captives,  to  replace  our  deceased  friends,  that 
our  wrongs  may  be  avenged,  and  our  name  and  honor  maintained,  as  long  as  the 
rivers  flow,  the  grass  grows,  or  the  sun  and  moon  shall  endure  ?" 

****** 

Red  Jacket  was  born  near  Seneca  Lake,  in  1750.  His  early  years  were  passed 
in  this  beautiful  region  of  country.  Here  was  his  constitution  strengthened  by 
hardy  and  constant  exercise ;  while,  as  he  approached  manhood,  his  mind  deve- 

2 


10  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

loped  itself,  and  his  genius  soared  in  untamed  flight.  Wherever  he  turned,  his  eye 
rested  upon  a  scene  of  splendid  beauty  ;  and  his  heart  ascended  in  gratitude  to  the 
Giver  of  life,  that  he  had  made  the  home  of  the  red  man  what  it  was.  He  thanked 
Him  for  the  magnificent  grandeur  of  Niagara,  for  the  calm  beauty  of  each  quiet 
dell.  His  soul  revelled  in  its  passionate  love  for  the  land  of  its  birth.  She  was  his 
first  love,  and  though  he  lived  to  see  her  pass  from  his  embrace  to  the  covetous 
white  man,  he  was  faithful  to  her  to  the  last. 

Nor  was  "  the  last  of  the  Senecas"  distinguished  only  as  the  devoted  patriot  ;  he 
was  the  splendid  orator  —  the  crafty  sachem.  He  should  indeed  be  called  the  last 
of  his  nation,  for  with  him  departed  its  glory  and  its  honor.  Though  a  man  of 
peace,  so  far  as  an  Indian  can  be  so  tenned,  he  resisted  energetically  the  arts  of  his 
enemies. 

He  was  not  the  brave  warrior  with  his  people,  nay,  they  charged  him  repeatedly 
with  cowardice  ;  yet  often  he  evinced  a  moral  courage  rarely  surpassed.  He  has 
stood  before  the  loftiest  statesmen  in  our  land,  contending  for  the  rights  of  the  red 
men,  and  bitterly  reproaching  the  government  of  the  United  States  with  its  course 
towards  them.  Of  his  several  names,  Red  Jacket  is  the  one  by  which  he  is  best 
known.  Early  in  the  history  of  our  country's  great  struggle  for  freedom,  he  was 
employed  as  a  runner  by  the  British.  For  his  swiftness,  an  officer  rewarded  him 
with  a  richly-embroidered  scarlet  jacket.  When  this  was  worn  out,  he  was  pre 
sented  with  another.  Thus  he  obtained  his  sobriquet.  His  Indian  name  was 
Sa-go-ye-waHia,  or,  "  He  keeps  them  awake."  I  have  said  that  his  people  charged 
him  with  cowardice.  Never,  then,  could  he  attain  any  rank  as  a  warrior  ;  for  one 
cowardly  act  cannot  be  forgotten  among  the  Indians.  He  could  rouse  the  passions 
of  the  Senecas  ;  he  could  make  their  souls  thirst  for  vengeance  ;  yet  he  was  never 
ready  to  lead  them  to  battle.  On  one  occasion  he  retreated  at  the  approach  of  the 
enemy  ;  and,  although  a  warrior  started  up  before  him,  entreating  him  to  rouse  up 
his  spirit,  and  fight,  it  was  in  vain.  The  warrior  called  to  the  young  wife  of  Red 
Jacket,  and  said,  indignantly,  "  Leave  that  young  man  ;  he  is  a  coward." 

Yet  was  the  Sacliem  ambitious  ;  and  it  was  by  the  magic  of  his  eloquence  that 
he  induced  the  people  to  advance  him  to  that  honor.  He  was  crafty  and  aspiring, 
while  the  souls  of  his  auditors  were  as  numberless  instruments,  upon  which  his 
mighty  mind  delighted  to  play,  sweeping  over  the  delicate  chords  with  its  viewless 
hand,  and  the  echoes  answering  the  strain  ere  it  died  away.  For,  as  they  stand 
under  the  old  trees,  these  children  of  the  forest,  with  upturned  faces,  gaze  upon  the 
countenance  of  the  orator,  as  he  speaks  from  some  gentle  elevation  among  them. 
Now,  their  dark  features  glance  with  a  frenzy,  for  Red  Jacket  rehearses  to  them  the 
story  of  their  wrongs  ;  now,  great  tears  are  bursting  from  their  drooping  eyes,  and 
falling  upon  each  manly  breast,  for  he  prophetically  describes  to  them  the  destruc 
tion  of  their  nation.  Ignorant  of  science  and  of  art,  he  easily  reads  the  counte- 


KEDJACKET.  *      11 

nances  that  he  scans  with  an  earnest  gaze,  and  with  his  miraculous  gift  of  language, 
like  the  rushing  and  noisy  Niagara,  he  carries  all  hearts  before  him.  He  writes 
upon  them,  throbbing  in  his  hearing,  sentiments  never  to  be  erased.  The  untaught 
Indian  pours  forth  to  breathless  listeners  the  music  of  his  eloquence ;  they  drink 
in  the  melody  of  his  flowing  sentences ;  they  will  that  even  the  trees  would  cease 
the  waving  of  each  branch,  lest  they  should  lose  one  draught  of  the  intoxicating 
harmony.  They  love,  they  hate,  with  him ;  their  souls  respond  to  his ;  they  are 
as  little  children,  willing  that  he  should  lead  them  about  wheresoever  he  may 
choose. 

It  is  the  old  and  sad  story.     The  noble  Seneca  tasted  the  white  man's  fire-water,  - 
and  was  lost.     Hear  him,  as  he  speaks : 

"  Brothers,  listen  to  what  we  say.  There  was  a  time  when  our  forefathers 
owned  this  great  island.  Their  seats  extended  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun. 
The  Great  Spirit  had  made  it  for  the  use  of  the  red  men.  He  had  created  the 
deer,  the  buffalo,  and  other  animals,  for  food.  He  had  made  the  bear  and  the 
beaver;  their  skins  served  us  for  clothing.  He  had  scattered  them  over  the 
country,  and  taught  us  how  to  take  them.  He  had  caused  the  earth  to  produce ' 
corn  for  bread.  All  this  He  had  done  for  his  red  children,  because  He  loved  them 

"  But  an  evil  day  came  upon  us.  Your  forefathers  crossed  the  great  waters,  and 
landed  on  this  island.  Their  numbers  were  small.  They  found  friends,  and  not 
enemies.  They  told  us  they  had  fled  from  their  own  country  for  fear  of  wicked 
men,  and  had  come  here  to  enjoy  their  religion. 

"  They  asked  for  a  small  seat.  We  took  pity  on  them,  granted  their  request, 
and  they  sat  down  among  us.  We  gave  them  corn  and  meat ;  they  gave  us  poison 
in  return.  They  brought  strong  liquor  among  us.  It  was  strong  and  powerful, 
and  has  slain  thousands." 

The  policy  of  the  great  Washington  was  to  treat  kindly  the  "  poor  children  of 
the  forest;"  and  he  encouraged  every  effort  to  Christianize  them.  Some  of  the 
Senecas  were  persuaded  to  listen  to  the  missionaries  stationed  among  them ;  but 
Red  Jacket  opposed  them  by  every  means  in  his  power,  for  he  hated  the  Christian 
religion.  Its  followers,  he  insisted,  only  wanted  to  push  the  Senecas  from  their 
ancient  seats.  He  considered  them  the  persecutors  of  his  race,  armed  and  ready  to 
attack  them  at  midnight,  and  spoil  them  of  their  heritage.  He  declared  to  the 
Indians  there  was  a  curse  hanging  over  them,  which  would  descend  as  soon  as  they 
abandoned  their  faith.  "  We  know,"  he  said,  addressing  them,  "  that  the  Great 
Spirit  is  pleased  that  we  follow  the  traditions  and  customs  of  our  forefathers;  for 
in  so  doing  we  receive  his  blessing.  We  have  received  strength  and  vigor  for  the 
chase.  The  Great  Spirit  has  provided  abundance.  When  we  are  hungry,  we  find 
the  forest  full  of  game ;  when  thirsty,  we  slake  our  thirst  at  the  pure  streams  and 
springs  that  spread  around  us ;  when  weary,  the  leaves  of  the  trees  are  our  bed. 


12  EASTMAN'S    AMEKICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

No  luxuries,  no  vices,  no  disputed  titles,  no  avaricious  desires,  shake  the  founda 
tions  of  our  society,  or  disturb  our  peace  and  happiness." 

"  Perhaps,  brothers,"  he  said  to  the  white  men,  "  you  are  right  in  your  religion  ; 
it  may  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  your  condition.  You  say  that  you  destroyed  the 
Son  of  the  Great  Spirit.  Perhaps  this  is  the  merited  cause  of  all  your  troubles  and 
misfortunes.  But,  brothers,  bear  in  mind,  we  had  no  participation  in  this  murder. 
We  disclaim  it.  We  love  the  Great  Spirit ;  and,  as  we  never  had  any  agency  in 
so  unjust,  so  merciless  an  outrage,  He  therefore  continues  to  smile  upon  us,  and  to 
give  us  peace,  and  joy,  and  plenty." 

Red  Jacket  deserted  the  British,  perceiving  the  state  of  affairs  between  the  con 
tending  parties,  and  being  assured,  that  the  interests  of  the  Senecas  would  be  best 
secured  by  their  being  allied  to  the  United  States.  After  this,  we  find  him,  with 
great  firmness,  resisting  the  English  on  the  frontier.  Yet  he  preferred  his  warriors 
considering  themselves  neutral  in  the  great  contest  they  were  witnessing.  He 
«  knew  that  war  must  inevitably  reduce  the  numbers  of  his  people,  and  it  was  his 
heart's  desire  to  preserve  them.  He  ever  bound  them  to  himself  by  the  magic 
*  chain  of  his  oratory,  drawing  figures  from  the  varied  and  exquisite  scenery  of  their 
country,  to  make  them  accomplish  his  will.  He  was  their  father  and  their  friend. 
When  they  listened  to  him,  they  even  forgot  that  he  wanted  bravery,  that  cardinal 
virtue  of  the  red  man. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  sorrow  that  he  saw  the  fair  country  of  the  Senecas  pass 
ing  into  the  possession  of  the  United  States.  He  urged  his  people  unceasingly  not 
to  sell  it.  "  We  know,"  he  said,  "  that  we  have  a  title  to  it,  and  that  our  title 
is  good,  for  it  came  direct  from  the  Great  Spirit,  who  gave  it  to  us,  his  red  children." 

Noble  in  his  stature  and  appearance,  of  the  highest  order  of  genius,  loving 
ardently  the  nation  whose  interests  had  ever  lain  near  his  heart,  a  change  came 
with  the  years  that  passed  over  the  Seneca.  "  The  poison  that  was  strong  and 
powerful,  and  had  slain  thousands,"  was  consummating  its  work.  His  noble  nature 
degenerated  to  that  of  the  brute.  One  would  think  there  could  no  longer  be  any 
interest  attached  to  him.  Yet  hundreds  stared  at  him,  as  he  was  exhibited  in  the 
museums  of  our  large  cities.  There  he  made  speeches  for  money.  The  gaping 
multitude  asked,  where  were  the  glowing  eloquence  and  the  musical  voice  that 
once  enchanted  all  who  heard  "  the  last  of  the  Senecas  ?"  Once  he  would  have 
told  them  that,  like  the  eagle,  genius  was  strong,  but,  like  him,  too,  it  must  soar 
aloft ;  and  that  he  had  fallen  for  ever  from  the  sublime  heights  among  which  it 
made  its  home. 

Yet  the  light  faintly  beamed  forth  again  from  the  soul  of  the  Sachem,  as,  unfold 
ing  its  wings,  it  prepared  to  depart  to  another  land.  It  turned  sadly  to  the  earth 
where  it  had  long  lingered,  and  fancied  it  might  still  remain  awhile,  to  overshadow 
and  protect  the  country  and  people  so  much  beloved.  "  I  am  about  to  leave  you," 


RED    JACKET.  13 

said  the  feeble  Sachem ;  "  and  Avhen  I  am  gone,  and  my  warnings  no  longer  heard 
or  regarded,  the  craft  and  avarice  of  the  white  man  will  prevail.  Many  winters 
have  I  breasted  the  storm ;  but  I  am  an  aged  tree,  and  can  stand  no  longer.  My 
leaves  are  falling,  my  branches  are  withered,  and  I  am  shaken  by  every  breeze. 
Soon  my  aged  trunk  will  be  prostrate,  and  the  foot  of  the  exulting  foe  of  the  Indian 
may  be  placed  upon  it  in  safety." 

So  great  was  the  dislike  of  Red  Jacket  to  the  Christians,  that  he  threatened  to 
desert  his  wife  and  take  another,  if  she  made  an  open  profession  of  their  faith. 
This  she  deemed  it  her  duty  to  do,  and  Red  Jacket  performed  his  threat.  Yet  he 
afterwards  returned  to  his  Christian  wife,  having  seen  her  faithful  and  virtuous 
course  of  life ;  and,  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  she  is  supposed  to  have  influ 
enced  him  so  far,  that  he,  in  a  measure,  tolerated  the  society  and  doctrines  of  the 
missionaries.  Meeting  death  with  perfect  calmness,  he  clung  affectionately  to 
his  ancient  faith.  "Bury  me,"  he  said,  "by  the  side  of  my  former  wife,  and  let 
my  funeral  be  according  to  the  customs  of  our  nation.  Let  me  be  dressed  and 
equipped  as  my  fathers  were,  that  their  spirits  may  rejoice  at  my  coming.  Be  sure 
that  my  grave  is  not  made  by  a  white  man.  Let  them  not  pursue  me  there."* 

The  matchless  orator  of  the  Senecas  mournfully  depicted  the  destinies  of  all  our 
aborigines,  when  he  thus  foretold  that  of  his  own  people.  "  We  stand,  a  small  island, 
in  the  bosom  of  the  great  waters.  We  are  encircled,  we  are  encompassed.  The 
Evil  Spirit  rides  upon  the  btast,  and  the  waters  are  disturbed.  They  rise,  they 
press  upon  us ;  and,  the  waves  once  settled  over  us,  we  disappear  for  ever.  Who, 
then,  lives  to  mourn  us?  None.  What  marks  our  extermination?  Nothing. 
We  are  mingled  with  the  common  elements !" 

*  This  wish  was  not  regarded.  Red  Jacket  was  not  interred  with  the  ceremonies  of  his  own,  but  of 
his  wife's  religion. 


ITASCA    LAKE. 

ITASCA  LAKE  is  the  source  of  the  Mississippi  Eiver.  It  is  3025  miles  from  its 
mouth,  and  1575  feet  higher  than  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 

The  waters  of  this  lake  are  clear,  cold,  and  pure,  with  a  clean,  pebbly  bottom. 
Around  its  shores  grow  the  spruce,  cedar,  elm,  maple,  pine,  and  wild  cherry  tree. 

Mr.  Henry  R.  Schoolcraft  discovered  and  named  the  source  of  the  great  Missis 
sippi.  He  ascended  the  river  with  a  party,  fifteen  in  all,  in  birch  canoes,  starting 
from  Sault  St.  Marie,  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Superior,  in  1832.  Nicolet  visited  Itasca 
Lake  in  1836.  In  the  picture,  the  party  is  landing  at  the  only  point  where  a 
landing  is  practicable.  The  latitude  of  this  lake  is  about  47°.  Chippewa  Indians 

live  in  its  vicinity. 

****** 

It  had  long  been  a  question,  "  Where  does  the  Mississippi  rise  ?"  In  the  year 
1832,  Mr.  Schoolcraft  and  a  few  companions  were  pushing  their  way  high  up 
towards  the  source  of  the  Father  of  Waters.  The  scenery  around  was  as  enchant 
ing  as  it  was  novel  to  those  who  looked  upon  it.  Hill  after  hill  arose,  with  tall 
pines  towering  on  their  summits.  Between  their  broken  sides  lay  small  valleys, 
with  lakes,  surrounded  with  brushwood,  reposing  in  their  bosom. 

The  guide  of  the  party  was  a  Chippewa,  named  Yellowhead.  For  two  days  he 
had  been,  from  the  earliest  dawn  until  evening,  poleing  the  canoes  of  the  party  up 
the  rapids,  and  through  the  intricate  lakes,  towards  the  south  fork  of  the  river, 
above  the  Amidjegowa  or  Cross- Water  Lake.  Soon  after  the  breaking  of  the  third 
day,  he  informed  his  comrades  that  they  must  prepare  to  begin  a  portage. 

This  is  a  mode  of  traveling  very  common  in  Indian  country.  When  it  is  im 
possible  or  unsafe  any  longer  to  continue  a  journey  in  a  canoe,  its  occupants  land, 
and  carry  their  canoes  and  other  effects  round  to  the  point  in  the  river,  where  they 
can  again  enter  them  and  continue  the  journey  as  before.  The  word  of  the  Chip 
pewa  guide  was  law  to  the  travelers;  they  prepared  to  obey  his  directions,  and 
thus  make  a  portage  over  the  heights  called  Hauteur  des  Terres.  In  this  way 
only  could  they  hope  to  reach  Itasca  Lake. 

But,  first,  Yellowhead  led  them  to  a  place  where  they  could  rest  and  breakfast. 
It  was  the  scene  of  an  Indian  encampment,  denoted  by  the  ashes  that  remained 


s 


ITASCA    LAKE.  15 

where  the  lodge-fires  once  burned,  and  by  the  holes  in  the  ground  made  by  the 
thrusting  in  of  the  stakes  to  support  the  buffalo-skin  tents.  Their  appetites 
attended  to,  the  guide  gave  the  signal  to  depart.  He  took  his  canoe,  twice  the 
length  of  a  man,  and,  without  any  ceremony,  or  even  word  of  explanation,  disposed 
it  over  his  head.  His  ludicrous  appearance  was  not  without  notice  from  the  white 
men  of  the  party,  to  whom  such  a  style  of  head-covering  might  be  new :  it  gave 
the  idea  of  our  old  Revolutionary  cocked-hat  stretched  to  an  interminable  length. 

This  was  no  time  to  consult  appearances.  Each  man  of  the  party,  by  putting 
his  canoe  over  his  head,  was  similarly  adorned;  and  thus  the  company,  fifteen  in 
number,  made  their  way  over  the  heights  and  through  the  forests,  in  a  costume 
that  would  have  occasioned  much  surprise  had  they  been  in  a  region  to  command 
spectators.  Their  appearance,  though,  gave  them  but  a  moment's  thought.  Would 
they  indeed  accomplish  their  object  ?  Would  they  rest  themselves  by  the  shores  of 
that  fair  lake,  so  often  sought,  but  never  found  ? 

They  frequently  stopped  to  rest ;  for  it  was  a  melting  day  in  July.  It  was  hard 
work,  scrambling  up  the  craggy  hills,  or  winding  a  way  through  the  tangled  and 
shady  forests.  The  party,  too,  had  its  tardy  ones,  and  sometimes  they  must  be 
waited  for.  It  was  indeed  hard  work ;  for  at  one  time  they  are  clambering  over 
the  hills,  and  then,  as  they  pass  through  a  lovely  valley,  they  are  attracted  by  the 
cool  look  of  the  waters,  as  they  ebb  and  flow  in  some  little  lake  that  is  half  hidden 
by  its  surrounding  shrubbery.  But  here  is  no  place  to  rest;  for  the  mosquitoes 
were  there  before  them,  and  they  may  not  stop  long  enough  to  breathe  leisurely ; — 
nay,  they  hasten  to  leave  the  inviting  spot,  and  gladly  resume  their  toilsome  way. 

Their  Indian  guide  alone  knew  where  they  might  stay  awhile,  and  repose  with 
comfort;  and  the  party  had  the  utmost  confidence  in  his  judgment.  They  obeyed 
instantly  his  word  of  command.  When  he  thought  proper  to  order  a  built,  he 
called  out,  "Pug  i  de  nun!"  and  instantly  the  cocked-hats  were  lifted  from  their 
heads,  the  packs  were  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  each  man  seated  himself  as  com 
fortably  as  he  could,  to  stretch  and  rest  his  tired  limbs.  A  number  of  these  rests 
had  been  made,  and  the  adventurous  travelers,  well-nigh  worn  out  with  their 
journey,  began  slowly  to  ascend  a  high  hill.  They  grasped  whatever  came  in 
their  way,  to  assist  them  as  they  went  on.  Had  they  been  seeking  for  gold  or 
precious  stones,  their  courage  might  have  failed  them ;  they  might  have  said  one 
to  another,  "  We  will  return  from  whence  we  came."  But  they  could  not  despair 
now ;  for  were  not  the  little  hills  assembling  around  them,  the  rapid  current  daunt- 
lessly  pursuing  its  upward  course,  and  the  shallow  sides  of  the  river  becoming  less, 
as  they  too  advanced  beside  them  ?  Now  they  struggle  on ;  and  as,  at  length,  they 
reach  the  top  of  the  hill,  with  eager  and  longing  eyes  they  gaze  around  them. 

There  it  lay — the  beautiful  lake — swaying  its  folds  of  crystal  water  between 
the  hills  that  had  guarded  it  from  its  birth.  There  it  lay,  placid  as  a  sleeping 


16  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL     PORTFOLIO. 

child,  the  tall  pines  on  the  surrounding  summits  standing  like  so  many  motionless 
and  watchful  sentinels  for  its  protection.  There  it  lay,  for  seven  miles,  glistening 
and  smiling  in  the  sunbeams,  before  them. 

There  was  the  sequestered  birthplace  of  that  mighty  mass  of  waters,  that, 
leaving  the  wilderness  of  beauty  where  they  lived  undisturbed  and  unknown, 
wound  their  way  through  many  a  desolate  prairie,  and  fiercely  lashed  the  timeworn 
bluffs,  whose  sides  were  as  walls  to  the  great  city  where  lived  and  died  the  toiling 
multitude.  The  lake  was  as  some  fair  and  pure  maiden  in  her  early  youth, — so 
beautiful,  so  full  of  repose  and  truth,  that  it  was  impossible  to  look  and  not  to  love. 
But  send  her  from  the  protecting  walls  of  home ;  let  her  wander,  unwarned  and 
unguarded,  through  the  unknown  passes  of  the  great  world ;  she  will  be  as  the 
waters  that  the  wearied  ones  gazed  upon, — slowly  but  certainly  losing  their  fresh 
ness  and  beauty,  as  they  pursued  their  way,  and,  in  time,  wandering  in  strange 
lands,  and  at  last,  lost — the  one,  in  the  noisy  and  restless  waves  of  the  sea,  the 
other,  in  the  less  merciful  mazes  of  a  relentless  world. 

There  was  but  one  landing  to  the  lake,  our  travelers  found.  It  was  on  a  small 
island,  that  they  called  Schoolcraft's  Island.  On  a  tall  spruce  tree  they  raised  the 
American  flag. 

There  was  enough  in  the  novelty  of  the  scenery,  and  of  the  event,  to  interest  the 
minds  of  the  white  men  of  the  party.  There  was  a  solemnity  mingled  with  their 
pleased  emotions;  for  who  had  made  this  grand  picture,  stretching  out  in  its  beauty 
and  majesty  before  them  ?  what  were  they,  in  comparison  with  the  great  and  good 
Being  upon  whose  works  they  were  gazing  ? 

A  different  feeling  agitated  the  minds  of  the  red  men,  who  stood  silently,  and 
admired,  too.  Their  souls  were  inspired  with  reverence  for  the  myth  which  is 
connected  with  their  religion.  They  thought  of  their  powerful  gods,  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  of  the  terrible  giants,  and  of  the  souls  of  their  great  warriors,  who  for  ages 
had  wandered  over  the  regions  of  the  dead. 

Evening  came  on,  casting  her  shadowy  mantle  on  the  beings,  who  far  away  from 
the  sympathies  and  assistance  of  the  rest  of  their  race,  were  gazing  mysteriously  on 
the  crimson  waters  and  on  the  eternal  hills.  The  glow  was  fading  from  the  lake, 
and  the  pines  looked  solemnly. from  the  hills,  which  were  pressing  against  each 
other  in  undefined  shadows. 

Needing  rest,  the  travelers  still  lingered ;  and  night,  with  slow  and  solemn  steps, 
was  advancing,  when  the  Chippewa  guide  arose,  and,  pointing  to  a  hill  that  was 
near  them, — 

"  Behold  !"  he  said ;  "  yonder  is  the  burial-mound  of  Manabozho's  daughter.  She 
sleeps  for  ever,  hearing  not  the  storm,  and  heeding  not  the  wild  cries  of  the  night- 
birds  that  hover  around  her. 

"  White  man,  Manabozho  is  all-powerful.     He  can  will,  and  it  is  done.     This 


ITASCA     LAKE.  17 

river  will  turn  its  course  if  he  command  it.  Yet  sometimes  his  strength  forsakes 
him,  and  he  is  like  a  child  before  the  gods  of  the  red  man. 

"  Time  was,  when  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Manabozho  sat  in  her  lodge,  and 
Chebiabo,  the  keeper  of  the  souls  of  the  dead,  loved  her.  He  loved  her,  and  he 
was  all-powerful.  But  the  daughter  of  Manabozho  would  not  go  with  him,  to  be 
his  bride ;  for  she  feared  him,  and  she  knew  that,  if  she  consented  to  go  to  his 
lodge,  her  face  would  become  pale,  her  blood  would  cease  to  flow,  and  her  soul 
would  travel  far  away  from  the  country  where  were  all  she  loved. 

"  So  she  said  to  Chebiabo,  '  I  will  not  leave  the  spirit-god,  my  father,  to  go  with 
you  to  your  lodge.' 

"  There  was  a  time  when  the  gods  were  met  together  on  the  earth, — the  gods  of 
the  seas,  the  tempests,  the  thunder,  and  of  the  great  lakes.  The  god  of  the  ocean 
would  say  to  the  distant  sea,  '  Come !'  and  the  waters  rushed,  tearing  down  rocks 
and  forest  trees,  and  leaping  like  giants,  crashing  and  dashing  towards  him.  Then 
would  the  storms  pass  away,  and  the  gods,  assembled  in  the  pleasant,  quiet  time, 
would  light  their  pipes,  and  take  counsel  together. 

"  Itasca,  the  daughter  of  Manabozho,  was  sleeping  in  her  lodge.  Suddenly,  the 
storm-spirits  assembled,  the  earth  rocked  to  and  fro,  large  trees  uprooted,  and 
Chebiabo,  the  terrible  master  of  the  land  of  the  dead,  stood  by  her. 

"  Chebiabo  stood  and  gazed  on  the  young  maiden.  He  held  lightning  in  his 
hands.  He  gazed  long  on  the  beautiful  maiden ;  for  he  loved  her.  He  wanted  to 
bear  her  away  to  the  gloomy  regions  of  the  dead.  There  was  his  lodge,  and  there 
should  she  sit  by  his  side. 

"Manabozho  saw  him  from  afar,  as  he  stood  by  his  daughter's  lodge.  He 
hastened  to  save  her  from  her  powerful  lover,  but  he  was  too  late.  Chebiabo  held 
the  forked  lightning  in  his  hands ;  and  he  hurled  it,  in  his  wrath,  over  the  hills 
and  the  prairies.  The  great  sea  burst  from  its  ancient  sides,  the  waters  rushing  to 
and  fro.  The  thunder  roared  over  the  tottering  earth ;  and  so  mighty  and  fearful 
was  the  storm,  that  the  lodge  of  the  spirit-god  was  crushed,  and  the  daughter  of 
Manabozho  was  buried  under  the  hills  of  sand. 

"  For  a  time  there  was  perfect  silence ;  but  soon  small  silver  rills  were  seen 
issuing  from  the  ruins  of  rocks  and  imbedded  sand.  These  were  the  tears  of 
Itasca.  They  were  shed  for  the  home  and  the  friends  she  would  never  again  see. 

"  By  the  cruelty  and  power  of  the  keeper  of  the  souls  of  the  dead  was  she  torn 
from  all  she  had  loved.  Thus  did  he  avenge  himself  on  the  maiden  who  refused 
to  be  his  wife. 

"  Long  did  Itasca  weep.  Her  tears  emerged  from  the  hills,  and  trickled  down 
their  sides,  until,  collected,  they  form  the  lake  that  is  sleeping  in  our  sight." 

The  Chippewa  guide  ceased  speaking,  and,  slowly  wrapping  his  robe  about  him, 


18  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

sought  a  place  for  repose.  The  others  followed  his  example,  and  lay  down  to  sleep 
on  the  bleak  summit.  It  was  long  ere  their  excited  minds  yielded  to  the  repose 
their  bodies  longed  for;  and  with  their  last  thoughts  came  a  vision  of  the  gods  of 
the  red  men,  the  pearly  tears  of  Itasca,  and  the  shadowy  land  where  reigned  in 
gloomy  silence,  Chebiabo,  the  master  of  the  souls  of  the  dead.  Itasca,  the  name  of 
the  maiden,  the  daughter  of  Manabozho,  was  given  to  the  lake  whose  waters  at 
last  gleamed  before  them,  and  repaid  all  their  toils. 


LANDING  OF  DE  SOTO  AT  TAMPA  BAY, 


THERE  is  before  me,  my  reader,  a  map  of  the  route  of  De  Soto,  where  you  can 
trace  his  wanderings  from  the  beautiful  bay  where  he  landed,  over  the  large  tract 
of  country  then  inhabited  by  proud,  dauntless,  Christian-hating  Indians,  even  to 
Little  Rock,  where  he  died. 

He  came  for  gold.  It  was  said  he  came  to  make  Christians  of  the  Indians ;  and 
he  brought  with  him,  for  that  purpose,  many  priests.  Both  the  missions  failed. 
The  Indians  bent  not  the  knee  nor  the  proud  heart  before  the  consecrated  sign, 
and  De  Soto  toiled  in  vain  for  the  riches,  the  hope  to  obtain  which  had  brought 
him  so  far.  His  policy  failed ;  his  cruelty  failed ;  his  religion  failed.  The  melan 
choly  end  to  his  brilliant  career  is  an  impressive  lesson  to  those  who  will  take  it  to 
heart.  Yet,  we  are  told,  wherever  De  Soto  was,  "  he  passed  all  captains  and  prin 
cipal  persons."  He  was  with  Pizarro  at  the  conquest  of  Peru,  and  afterwards, 
returning  to  his  native  Spain,  married  an  earl's  daughter.  He  lived  sumptuously, 
and  in  time  was  made  Adelantado  or  President  of  Florida.  In  the  mean  time, 
Florida  was  to  be  conquered.  This  was  easy  to  talk  of  in  Spain,  but  hard  to 
accomplish  in  America,  as  De  Soto  and  his  followers  found. 

On  the  25th  of  May,  1539,  the  Adelantado  landed  with  his  fleet  at  Tampa  Bay. 
They  called  it  Espiritu  Santo ;  for  it  was  on  Whitsunday  they  first  saw  the  land. 

In  a  few  days  they  came  to  the  town  of  Vcita,  where  they  were  received  with  a 
shower  of  arrows.  The  Indians  knew  what  Christians  were ;  these  were  not  the 
first  who  had  come  among  them,  seeking  for  treasure.  At  Vcita  the  houses  were 
made  of  timber  covered  with  palm-leaves.  The  house  of  the  Indian  lord,  as  he 
was  styled,  stood  upon  a  high  mount.  Here  the  President  lodged  himself;  for  all 
the  Indians  had  fled  at  his  approach,  and  were  building  fires  along  the  coast,  to 
warn  the  neighboring  tribes  of  a  danger  that  was  near. 

De  Soto  had  noble  captains  and  brave  soldiers  with  him.  They  were  splendidly 
armed  and  equipped.  Although  it  was  evident  they  could  do  little  in  the  thick 
woods  of  Florida,  De  Soto  was  not  disheartened.  Too  dazzling  was  the  gold  he 
hoped  to  amass,  to  allow  him  to  linger  or  to  fear.  There  was,  he  knew,  a  hard 


20  EASTMAN'S    AMEHICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

journey  before  him ;  but  what  treasures  would  be  his  when  he  should  have  per 
formed  it ! 

The  Spaniards  had  many  and  strange  adventures.  Soon  after  leaving  Tampa 
Bay,  they  came  suddenly  upon  an  encampment  of  Indians  near  a  river.  The 
Indians  leaped  in  the  river,  and  the  Spaniards  captured  but  four  women.  Spanish 
tactics  availed  but  little  in  Indian  warfare.  The  Indians  annoyed  the  adventurers 
exceedingly;  for  they  were  "  a  people  so  warlike  and  so  nimble,  that  they  cared  not 
a  whit  for  any  footemen.  For,  if  their  enemies  charged  them,  they  ran  away ;  and 
if  they  turned  their  backs,  they  were  presently  upon  them.  An  Indian  seldom 
misseth  what  he  shooteth  at." 

At  one  time  the  Spaniards  met  with  a  few  Indians,  accompanied  by  a  Christian. 
This  man  was  dressed  like  the  Indians,  and  was  scorched  by  the  sun  as  brown  as 
they.  The  Spaniards  were  about  to  fall  upon  this  party  with  their  lances,  when 
the  Indianized  white  man  called  out,  "  Sirs,  I  am  a  Christian ;  slay  me  not,  nor 
these  Indians,  for  they  have  saved  my  life."  De  Soto  then  received  the  whole 
party  into  his  camp,  and  listened  to  the  history  of  the  man,  who  called  himself 
John  Ortiz.  This  man  had  been  twelve  years  with  the  Indians.  His  story  was 
listened  to  with  great  attention  and  interest.  Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him  as  he 
recounted  his  adventures ;  for  how  knew  they  but  a  similar  fate  might  befall  some 
one  or  all  of  them  ?  Ortiz  had  come  into  the  country  with  Narvaez :  he  was  a 
mere  adventurer,  and  what  more  were  they  ?  what  more  was  their  gallant  leader, 
De  Soto,  with  all  his  haughty  splendor  and  indomitable  determination  ? 

Ortiz  related  that  at  one  time  he  was  bound  hand  and  foot  by  the^Indians,  and 
all  was  ready  to  burn  him  alive.  The  daughter  of  Vcita,  the  Indian  lord,  inter 
posed,  entreating  her  father  to  spare  his  life.  This  was  done ;  and  Ortiz  was  com 
manded  to  remain  at  the  Indian  temple,  there  to  guard  the  bodies  of  the  dead  from 
the  wolves,  that  frequently  carried  them  off  by  night.  One  night,  the  body  of  a 
little  child,  whose  father  was  a  noted  Indian,  was  laid  in  the  temple.  The  wolves 
succeeded  in  capturing  it ;  but,  as  they  were  bearing  it  away,  Ortiz  threw  a  dart, 
wounding  the  wolf,  that  dropped  the  child,  and  fell  dead  beside  it.  This,  how 
ever,  Ortiz  did  not  know.  In  the  morning,  the  Indians  were  about  to  put  him  to 
death  for  his  neglect ;  but,  hearing  his  statement,  they  sent  in  the  direction  taken 
by  the  wolves.  The  body  of  the  child  was  recovered ;  and  Ortiz  was  ever  after 
wards  held  in  great  esteem.  Some  time  after,  he  was  so  much  in  favor  with 
another  Indian  lord  to  whose  power  he  had  been  transferred,  that  he  promised  him 
to  restore  him  to  his  countrymen,  should  any  ever  again  visit  the  shores  of  Florida. 
When  the  Spaniards  met  Ortiz,  he  was  in  search  of  them,  with  an  escort  provided 
by  the  Indian  lord  who  had  promised  him  his  freedom. 

De  Soto  traversed  Florida,  and  other  parts  of  the  country;  and  although  he 
enforced  a  certain  sort  of  submission  from  the  Indians  in  whose  territories  he  was 


LANDING    OF    DE    SOTO    AT    TAMPA    BAY.  21 

abiding,  they  always  managed  to  thwart  him,  and  never  did  him  a  favor,  excepting 
when  they  felt  obliged.  The  poor  Indians  were  put  in  chains,  detained  in  bondage, 
and  slaughtered ;  but  their  proud  spirits  never  would  yield.  They  used  ingenious 
stratagems,  in  self-defence.  At  one  time  the  Spaniards  surrounded  them  when 
they  had  taken  refuge  in  a  lake.  They  were  at  a  loss  how  to  escape;  but  at 
length  each  Indian  held  on  his  head  a  water-lily  leaf,  and,  swimming  softly,  hoped 
thus  to  attain  the  bank.  The  Spaniards,  after  a  time,  perceived  the  motion  of  the 
lilies,  and  went  into  the  water  mounted.  The  Indians  again  retreated  to  the  lake ; 
yet,  finding  themselves  thus  compassed,  they  all  yielded  except  twelve,  who  pre 
ferred  death  to  being  captured.  These  twelve,  too,  were  taken,  and  given  as 
servants  to  the  Christians.  One  of  the  twelve  availed  himself  of  the  first  chance 
of  showing  his  hatred  of  the  Adelantado.  He  caught  him  by  the  neck,  gave  him 
a  blow  in  the  face  that  caused  the  blood  to  flow,  and  encouraged  the  other  Indians 
to  rebel.  They  paid  dearly  for  their  courage.  They  were  tied  to  a  stake  in  the 
market-place,  and  shot. 

Follow  the  track  of  De  Soto  and  his  priests,  and  what  do  we  see?  Indians 
chained  with  iron  collars,  to  do  the  bidding  of  their  owners ;  Indians  cut  to  pieces ; 
Indians  shot  in  their  native  rivers  and  lakes ;  Indian  women  surprised  and  sent 
away  in  ships  as  slaves.  Yet  did  De  Soto  command  the  Holy  Cross  to  be  set  up, 
declaring  it  "  in  memorie  of  ye  same  whereon  Christ,  which  was  God  and  man, 
and  created  ye  heauens  and  ye  earth,  suffered  for  our  saluation ;  therefore  he  ex 
horted  them  to  reverence  it,  and  they  made  shew  that  they  would  do  so."  Poor 
creatures !  they  were  taught  a  mercy  that  they  never  saw  illustrated  in  the  lives 
of  their  teachers. 

In  justice,  however,  to  the  priests  who  accompanied  De  Soto,  I  will  relate  that 
their  religion  was  not  always  without  a  witness.  Once  their  guide  and  interpreter 
fell  in  a  fit,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth,  like  one  possessed  of  a  devil ;  but  the  priests 
said  a  gospel  over  him,  and  the  fit  left  him.  It  would  have  left  him,  no  doubt, 
without  the  gospel ;  but  so  little  mention  is  made  of  the  priests  who  came  with 
this  expedition  to  save  souls,  that  it  is  well  to  give  them  all  credit  that  may  be 
derived  from  such  an  incident. 

De  Soto  found  himself  in  the  regions  of  an  Indian  "  ladye,"  who  courteously  met 
him  on  his  way,  gave  him  canoes,  and  even  took  the  pearls  from  her  own  neck 
and  cast  them  about  his.  She  gave  him  also  mantles  of  feathers  and  of  the  bark 
of  trees.  Her  hospitality  was  unbounded.  But  soon  it  came  to  her  ears  that  the 
Spaniards  had  been  very  cruel  to  many  of  her  poor  countrymen ;  she  then  slacked 
a  little  in  her  generosity,  and  was  accordingly  placed  by  her  visitors  under  a  sort 
of  surveillance,  and  made  to  walk  with  the  bondwomen  of  De  Soto,  while  he 
needed  her  influence  with  her  people,  to  make  them  do  all  that  he  desired.  After 
wards,  the  Spaniards  fell  in  with  some  Indians  that  were  very  poor,  living  upon 


22  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

roots  and  herbs,  and  wild  beasts  that  they  killed  with  their  bows  and  arrows.  Yet 
they  were  "  a  very  gentle  people,"  and  gave  liberally  to  the  exacting  Spaniard  of 
all  that  they  had.  In  one  town  De  Soto  was  presented  with  seven  hundred  hens; 
in  another,  three  hundred  dogs  were  given  him  at  his  demand. 

The  route  of  De  Soto  in  this  abundant  and  beautiful  region,  his  unquenchable 
thirst  for  wealth,  the  generosity  of  the  Indians,  and  their  anxious  desire  to  propi 
tiate  the  good-will  of  their  stern  visiter,  the  hatred  of  many,  brought  on  by  a  suc 
cession  of  cruelties,  fill  with  startling  and  interesting  incident  the  time  that  he 
passed  in  traversing  our  southern  country,  and  bending  his  way  towards  the  rising 
of  the  great  Mississippi.  Some  of  the  Indians  were  much  affected  by  the  gaudy 
splendor  of  the  apparel  of  their  conquerors,  and  fancied  them  more  than  human. 
Once  a  cacique  met  him,  with  two  of  his  subjects  who  were  blind,  and  entreated 
De  Soto  to  give  them  sight,  as  he  was  "  the  son  of  the  great  Sun."  The  blind 
men  as  earnestly  besought  the  restoration  of  their  sight  as  did  those  who  appealed, 
not  in  vain,  to  Christ  himself. 

De  Soto,  on  this  occasion,  disclaimed  all  miraculous  power,  telling  them  that  "  in 
the  high  heavens  was  He  that  had  power  to  give  them  health." 

As  the  Adelantado  pursued  his  way,  many  of  his  men  and  horses  gave  out  with 
fatigue ;  and  the  proud  De  Soto  was  forced  to  ask  the  friendship  of  one  of  their 
chiefs,  and  to  beg  provisions  for  himself,  saying  he  was  the  child  of  the  sun.  The 
answer  of  the  chief  was  as  follows  :  "  That  whereas  he  said  he  was  the  child  of  the 
sun,  if  he  would  dry  up  the  rivers  he  would  believe  him ;  and,  touching  the  rest, 
he  was  wont  to  visit  none,  but  rather  that  all  those  of  whom  he  had  notice  did 
visit  him,  served,  obeyed,  and  paid  him  tribute,  willingly  or  perforce ;  therefore,  if 
he  desired  to  see  him,  it  were  best  he  should  come  thither.  That  if  he  came  in 
peace,  he  should  receive  him  with  special  good-will,  and  if  in  Avar,  in  like  manner 
he  would  attend  him  in  the  town  where  he  was ;  and  that  for  him  or  any  other 
he  would  not  shrink  back  one  foot." 

De  Soto  was  much  distressed  that  he  could  not  at  once  chastise  what  he  con 
sidered  the  insolence  of  this  chief;  and  he  did  not  delay  his  revenge  very  long. 
Soon  after,  the  Spaniards  fell  upon  an  Indian  village,  killing  old  and  young,  with 
out  even  a  show  of  mercy ;  only  letting  those  escape  upon  whom  they  had  inflicted 
horrible  wounds,  to  show  what  the  weapons  of  the  Christians  could  do. 

How  entirely  the  aborigines  hated  De  Soto  and  his  followers  it  were  in  vain  to 
attempt  to  describe.  De  Soto  invited  Acuera,  a  chief,  to  a  friendly  interview — 
how  bitter  his  reply !  "  Others,"  said  he,  "  of  your  accursed  race  have  in  years 
past  poisoned  our  peaceful  shores.  They  have  taught  me  what  you  are.  What 
is  your  employment  ?  To  wander  about  like  vagabonds  from  land  to  land ;  to  rob 
the  poor ;  to  betray  the  confiding ;  to  murder  in  cold  blood  the  defenceless.  No ! 
with  such  people  I  want  no  peace,  no  friendship.  War,  never-ending  war,  exter- 


LANDING    OF    DE    SOTO    AT    TAMPA    BAY.  23 

minating  war,  is  all  I  want."     As  there  was  no  measure  to  the  sufferings  of  the 
Indians,  neither  was  there  limit  to  their  hatred  towards  those  who  had  caused  them. 

The  time  that  comes  to  all,  came  to  De  Soto.  "  He  felt  in  himself  that  his  hour 
approached.  The  21st  of  May,  1542,  departed  out  of  this  life  the  valorous,  vir 
tuous,  and  valiant  Capitaine,  Don  Fernando  de  Soto,  Governor  of  Cuba,  and 
Adelantado  of  Florida,  whom  fortune  advanced,  as  it  useth  to  do  others,  that  he 
might  have  the  higher  fall.  He  departed  in  such  a  place  and  in  such  a  time  as  in 
his  sickness  he  had  but  little  comfort."  He  died  at  a  point  near  the  mouth  of 
Arkansas  River. 

De  Soto  had  assured  the  Indians  that  he  was  immortal.  He  had  persuaded 
them,  too,  that  he  had  a  mysterious  influence  over  those  around  him.  Thus,  after 
his  death,  his  successors  saw  the  necessity  of  concealing  it,  if  possible,  from  the 
Indians,  as  they  were  greatly  in  their  power.  They  secreted  his  body  for  three 
days,  and  then  buried  it ;  then,  having  reason  to  suspect  the  Indians  were  aware 
of  this  fact,  they  had  him  disinterred.  Finally,  the  body  was  wrapped  in  mantles, 
heavy  with  sand,  and  at  night  carried  in  a  canoe,  and  cast  into  the  river.  The 
Indians  inquired  for  him,  and  were  told  that  De  Soto  frequently  went  to  heaven 
for  a  short  time,  and  had  on  this  occasion  taken  such  a  pleasant  mode  of  relaxation 
from  his  arduous  occupations.  One  of  the  caciques  suspected  that  De  Soto  had 
received  a  summons  from  -which  neither  red  nor  white  man  can  be  exempt.  He 
brought  to  the  Spaniards  two  handsome  young  Indians,  offering  them  to  be  killed, 
to  serve  De  Soto  on  his  gloomy  journey  to  the  region  of  death.  The  Spaniards 
declined  the  offer  with  a  pretended  horror,  persisting  in  the  truth  of  their  assertion 
as  regarded  the  absence  of  De  Soto. 

Not  even  a  grave  did  De  Soto  earn  in  the  fair  and  abundant  country  on  whose 
shores  the  picture  represents  him  as  landing.  No  doubt  he  thought  the  brilliant 
skies  and  the  glassy,  bright  waters,  prophetic  of  his  success,  as  he  regarded  the 
ships  destined  to  bear  to  his  own  country  the  treasures  he  should  amass  here. 
The  spears  of  his  followers  gleamed  in  the  sunlight ;  the  graceful  palm  trees  bent 
their  tall  heads  to  afford  him  a  pleasant  shade ;  the  high-mettled  steeds  that  bore 
the  richly-apparelled  cavaliers  snuffed  up  the  cool  air  from  the  sea,  and,  like  their 
riders,  longed  to  exercise  their  limbs  in  conquest. 

Where  now  are  the  gay  cavaliers  once  assembled  on  that  shore  ?  What  story 
does  Time  bear  on  its  wing  of  the  conquest  they  achieved  ?  It  is  written  in  blood. 

Where  are  the  Indians  who  once  owned  this  beautiful  land  of  flowers  ?  Where 
are  their  towns  and  their  temples?  Where  are  the  priests,  come  from  Spain, 
bearing  on  their  bosoms  and  in  their  hands  the  symbols  of  the  blessed  Cross  ?  As 
well  ask  the  winds  that  bore  the  Spaniards  to  Tampa  Bay  where  they  have  traveled 
since,  and  how  often  they  have  listened  to  the  sighs  of  the  conquered,  as  he  lay 
under  the  foot  of  the  conqueror  ? 


STRIKING    THE    POST. 

THIS  is  the  Indian  mode  of  recruiting  for  war.  An  appeal  to  the  passsions  of  a 
savage  is  always  more  or  less  effectual,  but  this  one  is  invariably  successful ;  for 
war  is  his  favorite  idea,  and  it  is  carried  out  in  every  act,  from  the  single  murder, 
where  a  foe  long  hated  and  hunted  has  been  destroyed,  to  the  noisy  and  bloody 
battle-field,  where  many  shout  the  death-cry,  and  where  the  keen-edged  tomahawk 
gleams  in  the  sun. 

When  offence  has  been  given  to  an  Indian,  the  immediate  result  is  retaliation ; 
and  if  it  be  an  affair  that  concerns  the  nation,  the  war-cry  is  soon  heard. 

In  a  conspicuous  place  one  of  the  warriors  raises  a  post,  and  commences  to  shout 
a  war-song.  The  Indians,  leaving  their  usual  employments,  are  soon  congregating 
near  the  spot  where  the  warrior,  striking  the  post,  is  thus  beating  for  recruits.  On 
the  ground  are  seated  the  jugglers,  stunning  all  present  with  their  discordant  music. 

They  cease ;  for  the  warrior  who  is  striking  the  post  is  about  to  address  those 
who  are  assembling ;  and  if  he  be  an  orator,  he  is  immediately  surrounded  by  an 
excited  audience. 

He  knows  how  to  raise  a  cry  for  revenge.  As  yet,  he  is  alone  at  the  post ;  but 
soon  he  will  be  one  of  many,  who  will  be  eager,  like  the  war-horse,  "  to  swallow 
the  ground  with  fierceness  and  rage,"  "  smelling  the  battle  afar  off,  the  thunder  of 
the  captains  and  the  shouting." 

For  he  appeals  to  their  pride  as  a  people,  when  he  declares  their  enemies  are 
laying  in  wait  to  crush  them  under  their  feet.  He  extols  the  fair  country  that  is 
their  own,  dwells  on  the  grandeur  of  its  mountains  and  its  ever-growing  forests ;  he 
calls  upon  them  to  remember  the  valor  of  their  ancients,  shows  them  their  home 
in  its  beauty  before  them,  reminds  them  of  their  aged  parents,  their  wives,  their 
young  children.  Will  they  lose  all  these  ?  Shall  these  dogs,  their  enemies,  chase 
them  from  their  home,  and  slaughter  their  helpless  families  before  their  eyes  ? 

He  waits  a  moment,  then  cries  "  Ha !  ha !"  for  a  warrior,  with  uplifted  tomahawk, 
bounds  towards  the  post,  and,  striking  it,  has  acknowledged  the  justice  of  his 
country's  claims  upon  him.  He  is  thus  pledged  to  go  on  the  war-party,  and  con 
tinue  with  it  until  it  returns.  It  would  be  in  vain  now  to  signify  this  intention  by 


o 


STRIKING    THE    POST.  25 

words;  for  the  Indian  drum  is  heard,  and  the  medicine-men  are  sounding  their 
instruments  aloud,  while  towards  the  scene,  here  and  there,  a  warrior  advances  to 
swell  the  number. 

Again  the  music  ceases ;  for  the  orator  must  press  his  success.  One  will  not  do 
to  face  a  host  of  enemies ;  and  he  ask?  them,  "  Is  there  but  one  among  the  Dacotas 
who  hates  his  enemy  1  Warriors,  is  there  one  among  us  who  fears  his  enemy  T 
Another,  with  glaring  eyes,  strides  towards  the  post,  and,  shouting,  strikes  it  with 
his  tomahawk. 

The  orator  goes  on.  "  Are  my  people  sleeping,  that  their  foes  can  come  in  and 
take  their  scalps,  bearing  them  to  their  homes  for  their  wives  and  daughters  to  dance 
around  1  Am  I  not  a  prophet  1  Do  I  not  see  the  battle-field  where  we  go  to  take 
vengeance  on  those  dogs,  our  enemies  1  Ha !  I  hear  the  death-whoop,  and  I  see 
the  red  blood  flowing  from  their  hearts.  Strike  them  with  the  tomahawk,  as  they 
fly  before  us !" 

The  orator  laughs  and  shouts  again,  for  many  are  now  striking  the  post;  the 
number  of  recruits  is  swelling  indeed.  Again  he  boasts,  and  talks  of  murder  and 
of  blood,  rousing  his  hearers  until  they  are  like  demons,  glaring  upon  each  other, 
yelling  and  shouting,  as  they  strike  the  post,  and  thus  enlist  for  the  dangerous 
enterprise  before  them. 

Wildly  they  dance  and  sing,  making  hideous  faces  and  gestures ;  and  the  medi 
cine-men  unite  their  deep  bass  voices  to  the  noisy  music,  and  the  women,  by  their 
wigwams,  stand  gazing  on,  and  shrinking  from  the  fate  which  they  have  reason  to 
fear  for  those  who  are  dear  to  them. 

If  a  large  number  of  recruits  be  needed,  or  if  the  warrior  who  is  endeavoring  to 
attract  them  be  not  immediately  successful,  day  after  day  he  repeats  his  efforts, 
and  eventually  the  number  is  obtained. 

The  warriors  then  meet  in  secret,  consulting  on  the  plan  of  the  campaign,  invoking 
their  gods  to  give  them  success,  and  beguiling  the  time  of  preparation  with  stories  of 
valor  and  of  stratagem,  in  which  the  relater  figures  as  the  most  important  character. 

The  war-chief  who  has  the  command  of  the  party  encourages  them  with  promises 
of  success.  He  artfully  induces  them  to  believe  that  the  medicine  he  possesses  has 
a  magic  power  to  protect  them. 

Inspired  with  an  ardor  known  only  to  the  savage  who  is  trained  for  the  pursuits 
of  war,  many  a  one,  with  the  gay  eagle-plumes  waving  from  his  head,  and  with  the 
light,  springy  step  of  early  manhood, — with  a  heart  in  whose  secret  chamber  some 
beloved  object  dwells  enshrined, — many  such  a  one  leaves  his  home  on  the  banks 
of  the  Mississippi,  never  to  see  it  more. 

Alas  for  the  savage  war-dance !  It  is  one  means  of  draining  away  the  life-blood 
of  as  noble  a  race  as  ever  flourished  beneath  the  smile  of  the  Creator,  or  passed 
away  beneath  his  frown. 


THE    DEATH-WHOOP. 


IT  is  with  a  prolonged  breath  that  the  Indian  warrior  shouts  the  appalling  death- 
cry.  It  is  not  the  same  as  the  war-cry ;  it  is  a  sound  unlike  and  far  more  terrible. 
The  feeling  that  prompts  it  is  a  concentration  of  all  the  horrible  passions  of  the 
human  heart.  Murder,  hatred,  revenge,  and  bloody  triumph,  unite,  in  one  voice, 
to  sound  a  victory. 

The  prostrate  dead  man,  with  his  now  useless  tomahawk  beside  him,  the  arrow 
in  his  side,  and  the  blood  trickling  over  his  brow,  was  a  moment  ago  actuated  by 
the  same  guilty  passions ;  his  form  is  now  quiet  for  ever,  and  his  soul  fluttering 
away  to  the  gloomy  regions  of  the  keeper  of  the  souls  of  the  dead. 

Not  so  the  victor.  Every  nerve  in  his  body  is  thrilling  with  joy.  His  blood 
stained  knife  he  grasps  with  one  hand,  while  high  in  the  other  he  holds  the  crimson 
and  still  warm  scalp.  His  eyes  are  started  in  their  sockets,  his  cheeks  glow  with 
excitement.  He  listens ;  for  the  hills  echo  again  his  voice,  and  still  again.  Right 
joyfully  falls  upon  his  ear  the  return  of  his  death-Avhoop ;  it  is  the  triumph  for  his 
victory,  and  the  death-song  for  his  foe. 

His  enemy  is  dead  at  his  feet.  For  a  while  they  fought  equally,  where  others 
were  yelling  and  murdering  by  their  sides,  but  neither  had  the  advantage  of  the 
other.  They  fought,  not  like  creatures  made  in  the  image  of  their  glorious  Creator, 
but  like  the  savage  beasts  that  war  unceasingly  in  the  forests  of  the  uncivilized. 
It  was  life  and  blood  for  which  they  thirsted ;  and  at  each  thrust  the  tomahawk 
waved  in  circles  over  their  heads,  and  in  untamed  passion  they  shouted  "  Ha !  ha !" 
and  again,  breathing  hard,  and  glaring  fiercely,  they  renewed  the  combat. 

The  struggle  was  hard  and  long,  but  one  succeeded  in  pushing  his  foe  beyond 
assistance ;  then,  by  the  mossy  rocks,  and  under  the  clear  blue  sky,  they  fought, 
man  to  man. 

Now,  his  enemy  is  breathless  and  powerless.  He  may,  if  he  will,  tear  his  heart 
away.  Not  one  thought  of  the  guilt  that  stains  his  own  soul  comes  in  to  mar  the 
ecstasy  of  his  triumph.  Guilt !  nay,  it  is  a  part  of  his  religious  faith  to  feel  no 
relenting  when  the  life  of  his  victim  is  in  his  hand. 

It  may  be  that  it  is  the  first  scalp  that  he  has  taken.     If  so,  what  joy !  for  the 


y,  A  T  H   vv  i-i 


THE    D  E  A  T  II  -  W  II  OOP.  27 

mother  who  bore  him,  and  the  maiden  he  loves,  Avill  glory  in  his  success.  Even 
while  trembling  with  excess  of  pleasure,  the  thought  of  them  comes  over  him,  to 
make  almost  unendurable  the  amount  of  his  happiness.  For  the  fame  of  her  son 
or  husband  is  dear  to  the  Indian  woman,  and  the  price  of  an  enemy's  scalp  is  far 
above  rubies. 

:•:  :;:  *  Hs  $  $ 

The  battle  is  over,  and  the  warriors  are  returning  to  their  own  country.  They 
pass  rapidly  over  hill  and  valley  until  they  are  safe  from  pursuit ;  but  when  out  of 
reach  of  the  vengeance  of  the  conquered,  they  rest  themselves  without  fear.  Then 
they  talk  over  the  events  connected  with  the  recent  fight ;  and  the  war-chief  tells 
them  to  mind  how  faithfully  he  foretold  all  that  should  occur.  He  relates  to  them 
many  a  wonderful  exploit  that  he  has  performed ;  while  the  wearied  soldiers,  stretch 
ing  their  limbs  upon  the  grass,  smoke  and  listen,  and  the  young  brave  carefully 
smooths  the  hair  on  his  first  scalp,  adorns  it  with  his  handsomest  trinkets,  feasting 
his  eyes  upon  the  horrid  sight.  He  holds  it  aloft  for  the  rest  to  gaze  upon,  and 
laughs  with  a  savage  delight  as  he  recalls  the  moment  when  he  severed  it  from 
the  head  of  his  devoted  victim. 

They  arrive  at  home,  and  joyous  is  their  welcome.  As  the  war-party  enters  the 
village,  the  women  and  children  follow  in  the  train  of  those  who  come  forward  to 
meet  them.  They  see  the  uplifted  scalps,  and  they  raise  their  arms,  and  laugh, 
and  shout.  They  thank  Wa-ken-de-dan,  the  old  woman,  the  goddess  of  war,  who 
gave  to  their  braves  the  victory. 

In  due  time  the  scalps  are  carefully  prepared  and  ornamented.  They  are  stretched 
upon  hoops,  and  painted  and  decked  with  feathers.  The  elated  warriors  cut  off 
their  hair,  paint  their  faces  black,  and  go  in  mourning  for  the  enemies  they  killed. 

The  women  of  the  village  assemble  in  their  gayest  apparel,  and  dance  around 
the  scalps.  They  sing  to  the  loud  music  of  the  medicine-men.  They  hold  the 
pole  bearing  the  scalp  upon  their  shoulders.  They  cry,  "  Whose  scalp  have  I 
here  ?"  They  tell  of  all  whom,  they  have  loved  and  lost.  A  mother  mourns  a 
son,  a  wife  her  husband,  a  maiden  her  lover,  who  died  upon  the  battle-field.  They 
tell,  weeping,  how  bravely  they  died ;  and  now  they  are  avenged.  As  each  one 
concludes,  the  chorus  is  sung. 

Day  and  night  the  dance  continues,  until  they  are  all  wearied  out ;  then  the 
scalps  are  taken  down,  and  buried  with  the  family  of  the  brave  who  took  them. 


TRANSPORTING   THE    WOUNDED. 


THE  Indians  have  a  horror  of  permitting  their  dead  to  fall  into  the  power  of  the 
enemy.  They  will  venture  a  great  deal  to  prevent  it.  In  the  picture,  they  are 
bearing  to  their  own  home  their  wounded  friends, — tenderly  too,  for  they  long  to 
preserve  the  life  of  the  comrade  who  fought  so  bravely ;  or,  if  he  must  die,  they 
would  that  it  should  be  among  their  own  people,  where  the  wife  may  tenderly 
support  the  aching  head,  and  where  the  Indian  priest  may  perform  the  mysterious 
ceremonies  of  his  clan  over  the  dying  man,  to  detain  to  the  last  the  spirit  that 
departs  so  unwillingly  from  its  feeble  tenement.  If  it  is  a  long  distance  to  go 
home  from  the  field  of  battle,  a  litter  is  prepared  to  carry  the  wounded.  The 
warriors  take  two  poles,  having  a  blanket  or  bufi'alo-skin  fastened  to  them,  so  as  to 
form  a  sort  of  cot,  upon  which  the  wounded  man  is  placed.  An  Indian  at  each 
end  raises  the  poles,  and,  by  means  of  a  strap  tied  to  the  ends  and  thrown  over  his 
shoulder,  he  is  enabled  to  bear  it  for  miles  before  resting.  Two  Indians  can  thus 
transport  a  wounded  man  from  thirty  to  forty  miles  a  day. 

Doubtless,  one  reason  why  they  dislike  to  leave  the  dead  in  the  power  of  their 
enemies  is  because  they  know  every  indignity  will  be  offered  them.  I  have 
known  children,  after  a  battle,  to  adorn  themselves  horribly,  yet  ludicrously,  too. 

The  Sioux  and  Chippewas  sometimes  skin  their  enemies.  They  elevate  the  skin 
on  poles,  stretch  out  the  arms,  and  point  the  fingers  to  the  country  once  called 
home.  A  number  of  Chippewas  were  killed,  near  us,  on  one  occasion,  by  the 
Sioux.  The  latter  prevented  their  enemies  from  bearing  off"  their  dead,  but  gave 
the  bodies  to  the  Sioux  women  and  children.  One  of  the  children  made  a  neck 
lace,  and  wore  it  over  her  breast,  where  dangled  a  Chippewa's  finger.  Another 
made  long  curls  of  the  skin,  wearing  them  over  her  ears.  The  little  boys  played 
football  with  a  Chippewa's  head.  The  day  before,  that  busy  head  was  planning 
their  destruction.  These  children  were  reproved,  but  could  not  understand  why 
any  one  would  blame  them  for  what  they  were  doing. 

Women  and  children  delight  in  cutting  up  the  bodies  in  the  smallest  pieces. 
I  saw  an  Indian  who  had  been  borne  from  the  battle-field,  terribly  wounded.  He 
lay  in  his  lodge,  panting  with  fever,  his  eyes  glaring,  and  his  cheeks  fearfully 


Q 

^j-, 

y 


a 


TRANSPORTING     THE    WOUNDED.  29 

Hushed.  His  poor  old  mother  sat  weeping  by  him ;  and  the  door  of  his  lodge  was 
lifted  up,  that  he  might  contemplate  a  scalp  that  had  been  hung  there  that  morning. 
It  was  evidently  a  great  comfort  to  him  to  have  it  so  near.  It  was  constantly  sur 
rounded  by  a  crowd  of  Indian  children,  who  regarded  it  with  as  much  admiration 
as  the  grinding-organ  and  monkey  performances  excite  in  the  streets  of  our  cities. 

The  Indians  fear  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  and  do  all  they  can  to  appease  them. 
If  they  leave  the  bodies  of  their  friends  to  the  insults  of  the  foe,  their  souls  can  do 
them  harm.  They  will  avenge  themselves  by  bringing  death  to  the  lodges  of  those 
who  neglected  them.  They  will  cause  famine,  and  render  useless  the  bow  and 
arrow  of  the  hunter.  They  will  unnerve  his  arm,  so  that  his  enemy  may  prevail 
against  him.  The  warrior  is  careful,  therefore,  to  give  no  offence  where  so  bitter 
a  reckoning  would  result ;  so  he  bears  to  his  home  the  dead  or  sick  friend  who 
hoped  to  have  returned  victorious  by  his  side. 

Even  if  the  wounded  soldier  must  die,  it  is  a  comfort  for  him  to  feel  that  he  is 
on  his  way  to  wife,  and  mother,  and  friend.  He  knows  that  he  will  be  watched 
and  waited  upon  to  the  last.  When  life  is  gone,  he  will  be  wrapped  in  a  new  robe, 
white  and  clean,  not  long  taken  from  the  noble  animal  who  wore  it  in  his  own  last 
battle,  when  he  too  fell.  When  dead,  the  crown  of  war-eagle  feathers  will  be 
placed  around  his  unconscious  head,  and  new  mocassins  will  adorn  his  even  now 
useless  feet. 

As  he  is  borne  gently  on,  he  slowly  uncloses  his  aching  eyelids,  and  tries  to  look 
around  upon  sky,  and  hill,  and  tree ;  but  they  are  glowing  in  a  sunlight  too  dazzling 
for  his  weakened  sight.  He  sees  his  kind  bearers  turn  a  listening  ear,  to  know  if 
their  enemies  be  in  pursuit,  and  he  feels  almost  happy  in  the  belief  that  nothing 
but  the  greatest  necessity  will  induce  them  to  leave  him  in  their  power.  Beyond 
are  other  bearers,  taking  home  a  warrior  wounded  like  himself,  but  not  so  fatally. 
Others  may  recover ;  but  his  own  soul  hears  a  voice  from  afar,  and  it  is  rousing 
and  preparing  its  energies  for  a  last  flight.  Never  again  will  he  see  wife  or  child ; 
yet  his  memory  dwells  upon  them,  as  they  stood  tearfully  watching  him  when  he 
set  out  on  the  expedition  which  has  ended  so  sadly  for  him.  He  is  too  feeble  for 
tears,  or  the  parting  from  all  on  earth  might  draw  them  from  his  eyes. 

Yet  death  is  the  destiny  of  all,  and  he  must  meet  it  as  the  brave  warrior  should. 

His  friends  tell  him,  at  last,  that  he  is  almost  home ;  and  he  feels  that  he  has 
indeed  nearly  reached — nay,  is  even  now  on  the  borders  of  that  shadowy  land 
which  is  the  home  of  the  children  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

Soon  will  his  body  be  laid  in  the  lodge,  its  inmates  now  so  gaily  expecting  him. 
His  wife  will  weep  at  his  feet,  his  young  son  standing  by  his  side,  mournfully 
regarding  his  altered  face.  His  friends  will  crowd  around  him,  casting  upon  him 
gay  and  costly  presents ;  they  will  mourn  and  wail  as  they  array  him  for  the 
funeral  ceremony. 


30  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

Then  at  his  head  will  stand  a  medicine-man,  and  he  will  talk  to  those  assembled 
of  the  virtues,  the  bravery,  the  cunning  of  the  dead.  He  will  commend  him  to 
the  young  as  an  example,  to  the  old  as  one  who  has  wrapped  his  robe  about  him, 
and  preceded  them  on  the  path  to  the  illimitable  hunting-grounds  of  the  Great 
Spirit. 

They  will  bid  him  farewell  quietly,  as  they  wrap  him  in  scarlet  cloth.  Silently 
will  they  bear  him  to  the  burial-place,  where,  by  the  side  of  his  relatives  and 
friends,  will  his  body  rest  in  peace.  No  more  weakness,  such  as  is  now  prostrating 
him,  no  more  pain,  like  that  which  is  now  assailing  his  limbs  !  The  spirit,  that  is 
now  uneasily  waiting  its  summons,  will  be  then  triumphantly  united  to  the  count 
less  bands  of  heroes  who  join  in  the  giants'  songs,  singing  to  Haokah  in  the  regions 
of  the  dead. 

Such  dreamy  thoughts  console  the  dying  man,  as  he  is  gently  borne  along ;  and 
often  those  who  are  transporting  him,  know  not  the  moment  when  the  imprisoned 
spirit  has  struggled  and  attained  its  freedom ;  while  they  are  only  bearing  to  the 
bereaved,  the  mortal  remains  of  the  brave  and  beloved  one  from  whom  they  so 
recently  parted. 


1  N  D  I  A.  N      !5  U   It  I  A  1 , 


INDIAN    BUKIAL. 


THE  burial-grounds  in  Indian  country  are  always  observed  to  be  beautifully 
situated.  They  are  near  the  village  which  was  the  home  of  the  departed  ones, 
and  the  mourning  relatives  constantly  repair  to  the  scaffold  on  which  the  dead  are 
placed.  Here  they  weep  for  their  loss,  vow  eternal  remembrance,  and  eulogize 
the  memory  of  their  friends  who  have  been  called  away  from  the  earth  for  ever. 

When  the  latest  breath  is  drawn,  the  friends  assemble  around  the  corpse.  One 
gently  bathes  with  water  the  face,  and  composes  the  limbs  so  recently  tossing  with 
the  death-struggle.  The  mother  or  wife  stands  at  the  head,  and  a  near  relative  at 
the  feet  of  the  deceased.  They  call  upon  him,  reproach  him  with  leaving  them, 
vow  vengeance  on  his  enemies,  and  exaggerate  his  virtues.  Death  throws  his 
darkened  pall  upon  all  failings,  all  animosities ;  naught  but  good  is  remembered  of 
the  helpless  clay  before  them. 

In  the  excitement  of  their  distress,  they  cut  off  their  hair,  and  pierce  their  limbs, 
tearing  their  clothes  already  crimson  with  their  own  blood.  They  pray  for  death 
to  come  to  them,  that  they  may  see  no  more  trouble. 

A  scaffold  is  raised  a  few  feet  from  the  ground,  and  the  friends  of  the  deceased 
gather  round,  to  assist  in  depositing  the  body  on  it.  They  first  take  off  all  their 
ornaments,  and  paint  their  faces  black. 

The  body  is  rolled  up  in  a  skin,  blanket,  or  piece  of  red  cloth.  A  coffin  or  box 
is  an  unusual  luxury  to  the  poor  red  men.  The  object  in  placing  the  body  in  an 
elevated  position  is  to  keep  it  away  from  the  wolves.  Nothing  is  left  undone  that 
affection  can  dictate  to  do  honor  to  a  departed  friend. 

The  dead  man  has  a  long  journey  to  perform,  ere  he  reach  the  city  of  spirits; 
how  can  he  have  strength  to  perform  it  unless  they  supply  him  with  food  and 
water  ?  Both  are  placed  beside  him ;  and  the  supply  is  constantly  renewed  as  it  is 
consumed  by  the  birds  that  are  hovering  about.  Then,  with  care  and  in  solemn 
silence,  they  lift  the  corpse  and  place  it  on  the  scaffold,  with  the  feet  towards  the 
risin"-  sun.  Afterwards,  preparations  are  made  for  one  of  their  most  solemn  feasts. 

If  the  deceased  be  a  warrior,  they  frequently  hang  the  scalp  of  an  enemy  to  the 
scaffold ;  if  a  maiden,  some  favorite  dress  or  trinket  is  placed  there ;  if  a  babe,  the 


32  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

mother  attaches  to  its  side  the  wooden  doll.     As  far  as  lies  in  their  power,  they 
show  every  token  of  affection. 

After  the  funeral,  the  relatives  of  the  deceased  seat  themselves  on  the  ground 
around  the  scaffold.  They  rend  their  clothes,  run  knives  into  their  flesh,  and, 
cutting  off  long  locks  of  hair,  throw  them,  as  a  sacrifice,  under  the  scaffold.  They 
cry  dolefully,  alternately  smoking  and  weeping.  The  pipe,  ere  it  is  passed  around, 
is  solemnly  offered  to  the  Great  Spirit. 

If  the  deceased  be  a  great  warrior,  his  friends  pronounce  eulogies  to  his  memory. 
They  call  upon  the  young  to  imitate  his  bravery  and  patriotism ;  they  relate  anec 
dotes  of  his  life,  to  illustrate  his  virtues.  They  tell  wonderful  things  of  him ;  how 
often  he  pealed  forth  the  death-cry  on  the  battle-field ;  how  he  visited  the  spirits  of 
the  storm  and  of  the  water,  and  of  all  that  he  had  chosen  to  reveal  concerning 
them.  Eloquence  is  exhausted,  and  grief  itself  becomes  wearied ;  and  the  mourners 
return  to  their  homes. 

Each  succeeding  day  brings  with  it  new  efforts  to  show  regard  and  respect.  If 
the  deceased  be  a  chief,  a  red  flag  is  planted  at  his  grave ;  if  an  ordinary  individual, 
a  white  one.  As  before  interment,  the  body  is  covered  with  presents,  offerings  of 
affection  from  the  bereaved,  so  when  the  funeral  rites  are  performed,  those  who 
love  the  most  continue  to  give  of  what  they  possess.  Those  who  are  well  off  in 
Indian  wealth  delight  to  share  with  the  dead;  while  many  can  only  give  the 
tribute  of  their  tears.  Nothing  is  so  consoling  to  an  Indian  as  to  feel  that  the 
friend  he  has  lost  has  been  honored. 

A  distinguished  Sioux  chief  was  killed,  near  Fort  Snelling,  by  the  Chippewas. 
At  the  burial-ground  belonging  to  the  Fort,  his  remains  were  placed  near  those  of 
the  United  States  soldiers  and  a  few  members  of  officers'  families  who  have  been 
buried  there.  This  was  considered  a  great  honor  by  his  band.  They  planted  a 
flag  at  the  head  of  their  chief,  while  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Minesota,  a  similar 
one  waved  over  a  Sioux  chief  named  Flying  Sword,  who  was  much  esteemed  by 
his  people,  but  was  shot  at  the  door  of  his  wigwam  by  a  stepson,  who  thus  resented 
the  chief's  cruel  treatment  of  his  mother. 

After  a  year  or  two,  the  body  is  taken  from  the  scaffold,  and  the  bones  are  col 
lected  and  buried. 

While  in  Indian  country,  we  frequently  visited  their  burial-grounds.  Once  we 
found  an  old  man  weeping  aloud  for  his  son,  who  had  just  died.  He  leaned 
against  a  tree,  to  intimate  that  his  grief  had  made  him  powerless.  Close  by  him 
the  hill  was  worn  away,  and  the  bones  of  the  dead  were  sticking  out  of  the 
uncovered  earth. 

And  is  this  all  ?  Does  the  Indian  feel  that  he  has  taken  an  eternal  farewell  of 
those  whom  he  so  deeply  mourns  ?  Alas !  his  hopes  are  vague  and  but  little  con 
soling.  Yet  he  has  dreamed  of  a  large  city,  which  is  the  home  of  the  departed. 


INDIAN    BURIAL.  33 

There  the  footsteps  of  the  fleet  deer  are  heard  bounding  across  the  endless  prairies. 
There  the  tracks  of  the  buffalo  and  bear  are  often  seen.  The  game  that  is  here 
failing,  so  that  hunger  often  gnaws  at  the  heart  of  the  Dacota,  is  there  in  plenty. 
In  the  dim  future,  visions  rise  of  the  comfort  of  the  lodges  of  his  people,  of  the 
soft  eyes  of  his  beautiful  wife,  the  merry  laugh  of  his  little  ones.  Mysterious 
voices  whisper  in  his  ear  of  the  solemn  feasts  he  shall  then  celebrate.  His  droop 
ing  soul  takes  comfort  as  he  listens.  Here  he  is  chased  from  the  shores  of  his 
native  rivers  by  his  unceasing  enemy,  the  exacting  white  man.  He  must  take  a 
last  look  at  all  he  loves  in  nature,  that  his  enemy  may  build  large  cities,  and 
become  rich  by  his  poverty.  Hardly  has  he  learned  to  know  another  country,  to 
love  another  home,  when  again  he  must  cover  up  the  ashes  in  his  lodge,  and  bend 
his  path  towards  another  resting-place.  He  must  depart  at  the  signal  of  his  foe ; 
there  is  no  one  to  help. 

The  red  man  turns  him  from  the  grave  of  his  friend;  he.  descends  again  to  the 
lodge  and  the  council;  he  performs  the  part  assigned  him  in  the  world,  and  in 
turn,  is  laid  beside  the  friends  whom  he  has  buried. 


MEDICINE-MAN. 


MY  reader !  if  there  be  on  earth  an  individual  in  whom  all  the  bad  qualities  of 
human  nature  are  found  united,  it  is  the  medicine-man.  He  murders  and  steals ; 
he  commits  every  act  of  violence  and  sin  under  cover  of  his  office.  He  is  doctor, 
priest,  and  juggler;  he  is  about  as  skilful  in  curing  bodies  as  in  guiding  souls;  he 
is  respected  the  more,  the  more  he  can  impose  upon  his  people ;  and  who  would 
knowingly  incur  the  anger  of  a  medicine-man  ? 

When  a  Dacota  is  taken  sick,  he  sends  for  the  doctor.  By  way  of  insuring  his 
coming,  he  sends  the  fee  by  the  messenger ;  it  may  be  a  blanket,  a  buffalo  robe,  a 
pipe,  or  whatever  the  family  may  have  at  command.  If  the  invalid  be  a  child,  the 
doctor  is  sure  to  find  the  parents  overwhelmed  with  anxiety,  for  your  Indian 
father  and  mother  are  models  of  parental  affection. 

The  picture  represents  the  medicine-man  working  hard  for  the  restoration  of  his 
patient.  He  has  the  sacred  rattle,  which  at  one  time  he  shakes  over  his  shoulder, 
and  then  holds  it  over  the  invalid,  hoping  thus  to  charm  away  the  evil  spirit  that 
has  cast  a  spell  upon  him.  On  the  ground  beside  him  lies  his  pipe  and  medicine- 
bag.  What  the  latter  contains  is  only  known  to  the  members  of  his  clan ;  but  it 
possesses  miraculous  powers,  and  may  be  the  means  of  bringing  health  and  cheer 
fulness  to  the  dismal-looking  individual  who  is  under  his  care. 

It  may  be  that  some  animal  has  entered  the  body,  and  is  gnawing  away  at  the 
heart  of  the  sick  man,  or  the  thunder-birds  are  angry  with  him ;  or  Unk-ta-he,  the 
water-spirit,  has  frowned  upon  him;  or  Haokah,  the  giant,  has  glanced  at  him 
angrily  with  his  terrible  eyes ;  or  some  medicine-man  or  woman  of  another  clan 
hates  him,  and  has  shadowed  over  him  the  evil  eye,  and  will  hold  a  mysterious 
power  over  the  victim,  until  the  flesh  will  fall  from  his  dry  bones.  All  these  things 
the  doctor  considers,  and  must  do  his  best.  If  there  be  an  evil  spirit  about  the  sick 
man,  he  must  charm  it  away  by  the  most  solemn  incantations.  If  an  animal  or  a 
fish  have  possession  of  his  body,  the  doctor  makes  of  bark  a  little  image  of  the 
animal,  puts  it  outside  the  lodge,  and  directs  the  young  men  to  shoot  it. 

Nothing  in  his  line  is  left  undone  to  restore  the  invalid.     He  rattles  the  gourd, 


A  MEDICINE  MAN  ADMINISTERING  TO  A  PATIENT 


M  KDKMXK-M  A  N.  35 

now  singing  "  Ha-he-hi-hah!"  quickly  and  with  energy;  anon  he  puts  on  a  solemn 
look,  and  chants  "  Ha-ha-ha !"  solemnly  and  slowly.  He  howls,  and  grunts,  and 
groans,  and  perspires ;  he  crawls  on  his  hands  and  knees ;  he  makes  frightful  faces. 
The  quicker  the  patient's  pulse  beats,  the  more  noise  the  doctor  makes ;  the  fainter 
throbs  his  almost  motionless  heart,  the  more  vigorously  he  flourishes  the  rattle. 

If  the  patient  recover,  does  he  not  deserve  all  credit?  If  he  die,  who  can 
reproach  the  doctor?  Is  not  death  the  destiny  of  mortals?  Can  the  doctor 
reverse  a  law  of  nature?  In  justice  to  him,  let  me  add,  if  he  cannot  save  his 
life,  he  solemnly  presides  at  the  funeral,  and  most  religiously  eats  his  portion  of 
dog's-meat  at  the  medicine-feast,  which  after  a  while  is  kept  in  honor  of  the  soul 
of  the  departed.  Censorious  must  that  man  or  woman  be  who  accuses  the  Indian 
doctor  of  neglect. 

But  there  are  other  charges  that  can  be  made  against  the  medicine-men,  and 
with  truth ;  for  they  exercise  for  their  own  purposes  the  most  remarkable  influence 
over  their  people.  If  their  cunning  and  crimes  only  affected  men  like  themselves, 
or  women  equally  crafty  and  wicked,  it  would  be  of  little  consequence ;  but  in  how 
many  instances  is  seen  the  effect  of  their  power  over  the  young !  A  father  wants 
to  sell  his  young  daughter  to  some  of  his  friends.  The  girl  has  already  given  away 
her  heart,  but  this  only  makes  the  medicine-man  laugh ;  for  his  own  heart  is  so 
seared  with  crime,  and  it  may  be,  with  sorrow  too,  that  he  has  forgotten  how  the 
young  feel.  He  seeks  out  the  maiden,  and  talks  to  her  of  many  things,  he  tells 
her  stories  of  the  young  who  have  despised  the  warnings  of  the  wise  men,  and 
what  befel  them. 

They  died,  and  how  ?  A  sudden  fever,  a  wasting  disease.  Or,  they  were  borne 
away  prisoners,  to  make  mocassins  for  their  enemies ;  or  their  scalps  dried  among 
the  lodges  of  their  foes ;  or  Unk-ta-he  drew  them  down  to  his  dark  lodges  in  the 
waters. 

The  maiden  will  not  hear  at  first.  She  loves,  and  "  love  makes  her  heart  glad ;" 
and  she  will  not  listen  to  the  words  of  the  medicine-man.  But  his  eye  is  upon 
her,  his  form  is  in  her  path — the  more  constantly,  if  he  be  the  man  who  has  pur 
chased  her  lithe  form  and  sparkling  eyes.  She  goes  by  herself,  and  looks  out  from 
the  topmost  bluff  on  the  fair  waters ;  the  medicine-man  is  there  too,  and  he  bids 
her  beware  lest,  from  its  depths,  the  hideous  face  of  some  offended  water-spirit 
blight  her  gaze.  She  paddles  her  canoe  alone  among  the  fairy  islands,  guiding  it 
round  the  fallen  forest-trees,  and  singing  to  herself  her  own  wild  thoughts;  but 
there  the  medicine-man  has  tracked  her  out ;  he  holds  towards  her  the  bag  that 
contains  his  potent  medicine,  fatal,  if  he  will  it,  to  her.  She  hides  her  head  on  her 
bosom,  and  gathers  her  robe  about  her,  weeping,  as  she  sits  in  the  corner  of  her 
mother's  lodge,  and  she  hears  without  the  voice  of  her  soul's  enemy,  as  he  bargains 
with  her  stony-hearted  parent. 


36  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL     PORTFOLIO. 

What  can  she  do?  Her  heart  has  died  within  her;  for  the  Great  Spirit  will  not 
hear  her  prayers;  the  Spirit  of  the  Woods  will  not  aid  her;  all  nature  has  turned 
against  her.  Faint  and  helpless,  she  has  only  to  submit.  The  successful  medicine 
man  takes  her  to  his  lodge ;  here  she  can  read,  in  the  cruel  faces  of  his  older  wives, 
the  future  that  will  be  hers. 

Or,  it  may  be,  her  rebellious  soul  resists  the  fate  that  is  opening  before  her.  She 
sickens  at  the  thought  of  her  unloving  heart  aching  itself  away,  and  the  rich  juices 
of  life  slowly  drying,  while  she,  a  slave  to  the  man  she  hates,  must  ever  stand  in 
his  presence,  obedient  to  his  will.  She  has  pondered  it  in  her  heart,  until  her 
brain  whirls  when  she  asks  herself,  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?"  Alas !  she  cannot  even 
ask  sympathy  from  the  mother  who  gave  her  birth ;  she  is  combined  against  her, 
fearing  the  arts  and  power  of  the  dreaded  medicine-man. 

Yet  there  is  another  parent  to  whom  she  will  appeal,  and  not  in  vain.  Nature 
will  not  close  against  her,  her  bountiful  heart ;  but  will  at  least  afford  her  forgetful- 
ness  in  her  bosom — she  can  die !  The  waters  with  which  she  has  played  from 
her  very  birth  can  close  over  her  and  silence  her  throbbing  heart,  can  shield  her 
from  the  evils  that  she  dreads.  How  often  the  Indian  maiden  thus  reasons  and 
thus  acts ! 

Though  we  might  for  ever  enumerate  the  crimes  of  the  medicine-man,  we  cannot 
destroy  the  influence  he  exerts  among  his  tribe.  The  veneration  for  his  office  is 
extended  to  himself;  and,  however  he  may  wield  it,  he  will  hold  a  secret  and 
mysteriously-used  sceptre  so  long  as  the  remnant  of  an  Indian  nation  is  left,  in  its 
unchristianized  condition,  on  our  continent. 


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MEDICINE-DANCE    OF    THE    WINNEBAGOES. 


THE  wigwams  of  the  Winnebagoes  are  made  of  strips  of  birch  bark  and  grass 
mats.  Saplings  are  stuck  in  the  ground,  with  the  tops  bent  over  and  tied  with 
withes.  This  forms  a  sort  of  oven-shaped  structure,  about  seven  feet  in  height. 
The  fire  is  made  in  the  centre,  and  a  hole  left  in  the  top  of  the  wigwam  for  a 
chimney. 

The  usual  size  of  these  wigwams  is  not  more  than  eight  or  ten  feet  in  diameter ; 
sometimes  they  are  made  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  in  length,  and  eight  feet  broad. 
The  wigwam  in  which  is  celebrated  their  famous  medicine-dance  is  made  large, 
(from  forty  to  fifty  feet  in  diameter,)  as  shown  in  the  plate. 

This  plate  represents  the  medicine-dance  of  the  Winnebagoes.  It  is  a  sort  of 
celebration  in  honor  of  their  sacred  medicine,  and  is  given  to  propitiate  the  souls  of 
the  dead ;  for  the  Winnebagoes,  like  other  Indians,  believe  that  the  souls  of  the 
dead  can  injure  them  if  they  do  not  secure  their  good-will.  Shortly  after  the 
death  of  an  individual,  the  nearest  relative  gives  a  medicine-feast,  after  which  he 
is  privileged  to  take  off  his  mourning. 

The  Dacotas  dance  in  honor  of  their  medicine  in  the  open  air;  the  Winnebagoes 
keep  their  medicine-feast  in  a  large  wigwam.  Each  tribe  considers  this  feast  of 
the  greatest  solemnity  and  importance. 

The  medicine  may  be  anything  that  possesses  a  mysterious  or  supernatural 
power.  A  piece  of  skin,  the  tooth  of  an  animal,  a  stone,  a  shell,  a  root, — these, 
placed  in  the  bag  of  a  medicine-man,  immediately  acquire  miraculous  influence. 

Some  of  their  medicine  is  very  old,  and  has  been  carefully  kept.  If  an  Indian 
lose  his  medicine-bag,  he  is  despised;  he  is  nobody;  he  cannot  look  a  friend  in  the 
face  until  he  finds  or  replaces  it.  To  do  this  it  takes  a  long  time. 

The  medicine-bag  is  made  of  an  otter,  or  the  skin  of  any  small  animal.  This 
sacred  bag  hangs  outside,  near  the  lodge.  Children  are  taught  to  respect  it ;  it  is 
never  injured,  never  stolen.  It  is  considered  the  guardian  spirit  of  the  family,  and 
all  regard  it  with  the  greatest  reverence. 

Those  who  partake  of  the  medicine-feast  must  be  solemnly  initiated  into  its 
secret,  by  certain  ceremonies.  Women  are  sometimes  allowed  communion,  but  all 


38  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

must  be  prepared  for  it  by  the  forms  that  have  endured  for  ages.  No  member  of 
this  society  has  ever  betrayed  its  secret. 

This  cannot  be  a  mere  imposition,  to  have  stood  the  test  of  time  and  constant 
change  of  circumstance.  Mesmerism  is  undoubtedly  connected  with  it,  but  in  what 
way  it  is  impossible  to  tell. 

The  bower  wigwam,  in  which  the  Winnebagoes  celebrate  their  medicine-feast,  is 
made  according  to  the  number  of  invited  guests,  for  even  the  members  of  the 
society  cannot  come  without  a  special  invitation  from  the  master  of  the  feast. 

When  new  members  are  to  be  initiated,  they  are  conducted  by  a  medicine-man 
into  the  retirement  of  the  woods,  where  they  fast  while  receiving  instruction  from 
their  priest.  He  talks  to  them  of  the  power  and  sacred  nature  of  their  medicine, 
and  of  other  things  connected  with  their  religion.  They  are  then  required  to  make 
handsome  presents  to  the  society ;  they  must  give  what  they  most  value. 

On  the  mats  that  lie  in  the  centre  of  the  bower  are  seated  the  candidates  during 
the  process  of  initiation.  Their  sensibilities,  rendered  acute  by  the  preparatory 
fast,  are  easily  excited.  They  appear  to  be  wholly  at  the  will  of  the  medicine-man, 
and  frequently,  during  his  incantations,  become  insensible.  The}'  fall  on  their 
faces,  as  the  otter-skin  containing  the  medicine  is  held  up  before  them  by  the 
medicine-man,  who  is  all  the  while  singing  in  low,  guttural  tones. 

The  ceremony  over,  the  new  members  revive,  and  are  admitted  at  once  into  all 
the  honors  and  privileges  of  membership.  They  follow  the  jugglers  as  they  go 
round ;  they  imitate  his  motions,  throwing  the  mysterious  medicine-bag  into  the 
faces  of  the  spectators,  who  become  so  agitated  as  to  fall  to  the  earth  as  if  deprived 
of  life.  This  part  of  the  ceremony  the  picture  represents. 

When  a  member  is  summoned  to  a  medicine-feast,  he  may  not  avail  himself  of 
any  excuse.  Neither  occupation  nor  distance  can  be  offered  as  an  apology :  the 
summons  is  obeyed,  if  possible.  There  is  always  an  entertainment,  and  dog's 
flesh  is  a  favorite  dish  at  a  medicine-feast.  The  music  is  the  invariable  drum 
and  rattle. 

Order  and  solemnity  always  prevail.  The  horrid  noise  of  the  musicians,  the 
contortions  of  the  priests,  the  mesmeric  influence  they  appear  to  exert  over  their 
people,  and  the  strange  wildness  of  the  scene,  are  calculated  to  oppress  a  spectator 
with  feelings  of  awe. 


,_  •-> 

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L  r-i 

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DACOTA    ENCAMPMENT. 


A  TRAVELER  in  Indian  country  during  the  summer  season  cannot  fail  to  be  struck 
with  the  taste  of  the  Indians  as  regards  the  location  of  their  villages.  Even  if 
it  be  a  mere  encampment  on  a  hunting  excursion,  the  point  of  resting  is  sure  to  be 
where  all  that  is  attractive  in  nature  meets  the  eye. 

The  Indians  must  be  near  the  river ;  and  large  trees  must  shade  their  buffalo 
tents.  Convenience  is  not  much  consulted  by  the  men,  for  they  have  only  to  eat, 
and  lounge,  and  talk,  when  they  are  at  home,  the  women  having  all  else  in  their 
department.  They  make  the  lodges  of  buffalo-skin,  always ;  for  there  is  a  tradition 
that  one  of  their  ancestors  made  hers  of  deer-skin,  and  died  soon  afterwards.  This, 
to  their  superstitious  minds,  was  an  intimation  that  deer-skin  was  never  more  to  be 
used  for  houses,  for  ever. 

The  Dacota  woman  not  only  sews  the  buffalo-skin  together,  thus  making  her 
house,  but,  when  on  a  journey,  she  carries  it  on  her  back.  Long  and  weary  may 
have  been  the  day's  travel ;  but  she  must  put  the  stakes  in  the  ground,  and  cover 
them  with  the  buffalo-skins,  then  cut  the  wood  to  make  the  fire,  and  cook  for  the 
family  before  she  rests. 

Yet  she  enjoys  the  time  of  encampment  too.  Accustomed  to  labor,  she  is  gene 
rally  reconciled  to  it.  She  is  not  without  her  recreations ;  for,  while  the  men  are 
hunting,  she  can  rest  by  the  river's  bank,  singing  to  her  baby,  watching  the  while 
the  maidens,  as  they  plunge  in  and  out  of  the  river,  diving  from  her  sight,  and 
then  reappearing  near  to  where  she  is  seated.  When  the  fair  summer  evening 
glows  about  them,  while  the  men  are  gossipping  and  smoking,  the  maidens  lie  about 
the  grass,  playing  games  of  chance  with  plum-stones,  or  enjoying  some  such  pastime. 

The  picture  represents  the  camp  about  to  be  broken  up.  The  woman  on  the 
left  is  uncovering  her  lodge,  thus  intimating  to  the  party  that  the  starting-time  is 
approaching.  No  one  seems  inclined  to  follow  her  example.  The  men  lie  about, 
taking  their  leisure,  some  talking  politics,  some  observing  the  progress  of  the  game 
of  plum-stones.  A  woman  is  bearing  a  heavy  burden  towards  her  small  lodge, 
made  of  bark.  To  the  right,  an  Indian  mounted,  is  ready  to  pioneer  the  party. 
On  the  bank,  a  woman  is  washing  her  face  in  primitive  style,  others  near  her 
bathing  in  the  river.  In  the  foreground,  two  old  squaws  are  in  earnest  confab, 


40  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

discussing,  no  doubt,  a  nice  bit  of  scandal.  They  are  taking  into  consideration  the 
state  of  their  neighbors'  affairs  in  the  other  lodges.  They  are  quite  out  of  hearing, 
and  can  pick  to  pieces  the  character  of  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  in  the 
encampment. 

By-and-by,  they  will  all  make  a  move ;  and  in  the  gray  morning  twilight  the 
scene  of  the  encampment  will  look  quiet  and  sad  as  a  deserted  house.  Under  the 
old  elms  will  be  heaps  of  ashes,  over  which  was  boiled  their  fish  or  venison.  The 
broken  ground  will  show  where  the  stakes  for  the  tents  were  driven  in ;  but  the 
song,  the  laugh,  and  the  jest,  will  not  be  heard. 

It  is  very  pleasant  to  the  Indians,  this  roving  about  during  the  summer  season, 
especially  in  the  northwest,  where  the  long  and  cold  winters  deprive  them  of  many 
out-door  enjoyments,  which  they  could  have  in  a  warmer  region. 

The  Indians  are  reckless  of  the  future,  but  wisely  enjoy  the  gay  summer  time. 
Yet  it  were  well  for  them  to  take  thought  for  the  ensuing  season.  Hunting  and 
fishing  occupy  the  men  during  the  day,  while  the  home  duties  of  the  women  are 
constant  and  varied. 

Night  is  not  all  passed  in  sleep ;  it  is  often  night  turned  into  day.  The  moon 
light  as  often  rests  on  anxious,  sorrowful  faces,  as  on  countenances  calm  in  repose. 
There  is  heard  at  once  the  loud  laugh,  the  infant's  cry,  the  wild  notes  of  the  Indian 
flute,  the  drum  of  the  medicine-man,  from  different  points  of  the  encampment. 
Even  the  children  forget  to  be  sleepy,  when  they  can  listen  to  the  long  stories  of 
the  medicine-women.  These  stories  have  always  some  moral ;  they  are  intended 
to  instruct  the  young  in  such  things  as  the  Dacota  should  know.  They  are  calcu 
lated  to  excite  superstitious  notions,  and  often  frighten  children  into  a  reverence 
for  their  elders,  by  inducing  them  to  believe  that  the  aged  have  a  mysterious  skill 
in  matters  above  their  comprehension. 

Many  of  the  customs  and  feasts  of  the  Indians  are  celebrated  as  they  go  from 
point  to  point  in  search  of  game.  Often  they  invoke  the  blessing  of  Wa-kun-ton-ka, 
the  Great  Spirit,  that  the  bear,  the  buffalo,  and  the  deer,  may  fall  beneath  their 
arrows ;  that  they  may  eat  and  live,  and  not  die,  when  the  cold  winter  shall  come 
upon  them. 


DACOTA    VILLAGE. 


THE  summer  houses  of  the  Dacotas  are  made  of  the  bark  peeled  from  trees. 
The  building  of  the  house  is  the  work  of  the  women. 

These  houses  are  quite  comfortable,  and  their  interiors  are  furnished  with  all 
that  an  Indian  family  deems  necessary.  Here  they  live,  enjoying  the  warm 
weather,  and  preparing  for  the  long,  cold  winter  that  will  follow. 

They  dry  their  skins  on  the  scaffold  attached  to  the  house,  making  clothing  of 
them  when  needed.  Their  corn  may  be  seen  hanging  about,  tied  in  bundles  to 
dry,  while  all  the  other  items  of  housewifery  receive  due  attention. 

For  these  houses  the  bark  of  the  elm  tree  is  principally  used.  There  is  a  quan 
tity  of  this  sort  in  the  Sioux  country.  In  the  spring,  the  bark  peels  off  easily  in 
large  pieces.  The  women  have  only  to  plant  poles  in  the  ground,  fasten  the  bark 
to  them,  and  the  summer  house  is  soon  made.  In  the  roof  there  is  a  hole  cut  that 
answers  the  purposes  of  a  chimney.  The  fire  in  a  Sioux  or  Dacota  lodge  is  always 
kindled  in  the  centre.  A  place  in  the  lodge  is  allotted  to  each  member  of  the 
family.  The  wife  has  hers  near  the  door ;  being  servant  as  well  as  wife,  she  is  by 
custom  placed  where  she  can  conveniently  go  in  and  out.  The  husband  has  his 
place  near  the  fire. 

There  is  but  one  room  in  an  Indian  lodge.  Around  its  sides  are  places  made  for 
sleeping,  for  they  can  hardly  be  called  beds.  They  are  simply  long  pieces  of  bark 
fastened  to  upright  poles  by  withes,  and  are  considered  by  the  family  very  com 
fortable.  A  very  few  other  articles  complete  the  contents  of  the  apartment. 

Poor  as  is  the  Dacota  woman,  and  meagre  as  are  the  arrangements  of  her  house, 
she  is  always  glad  to  receive  a  stranger,  and  gives  him  freely  of  what  she  owns. 
Hospitality  is  one  of  the  virtues  of  the  Sioux. 

The  summer  houses  are  stationary.  A  medicine-bag,  containing  the  medicine 
that  is  used  by  the  clan  of  the  family,  always  hangs  near  the  house.  They  believe 
it  keeps  away  bad  spirits. 

Little  Crow's  Village,  in  Minesota,  was,  a  few  years  ago,  the  scene  of  a  singular 
instance  of  Indian  policy. 

Big  Thunder,  the  chief  of  this  band,  had  three  wives.     The  oldest  son  of  each  of 

6 


42  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

these  wives  claimed  to  be  chief  in  the  event  of  their  father's  death.  Big  Thunder 
thought  proper  to  settle  the  succession  on  the  oldest  son  of  the  first  wife.  This 
made  the  other  sons  very  jealous  and  angry,  and  they  bitterly  reproached  their 
father  with  injustice. 

The  old  man  wished,  for  the  sake  of  his  family  and  of  the  band,  to  have  the 
matter  settled  amicably  before  his  death ;  and  he  endeavored  to  impress  upon  the 
minds  of  his  rebellious  sons  the  propriety  of  his  decision.  They  would  not  listen 
to  him,  using  threats  of  a  violent  nature. 

Big  Thunder  became  very  unhappy  at  the  condition  of  affairs ;  so  he  betook 
himself  to  the  two  modes  of  consolation  so  much  in  vogue  among  Indians.  He 
drank  whiskey,  and  beat  his  wives. 

There  was  never  peace  in  his  wigwam.  His  wicked  sons  were  always  quarrelling. 
The  other  members  of  the  family  took  sides  as  they  felt  inclined ;  and  the  old  man 
was  well-nigh  beside  himself.  He  felt  perfectly  justified  in  never  being  sober,  and 
in  constantly  beating  one  of  his  wives.  The  oldest  of  the  women  said  she  could 
stand  it  no  longer;  she  deserted  Big  Thunder,  and  joined  another  band  of  Indians. 
It  may  be  remarked  here  that  she  never  married  again.  This  is  related  of  her  in 
proof  of  her  constancy  to  her  husband,  but  due  weight  should  be  given  to  the  fact 
that  the  old  lady  was  quite  infirm,  and  not  in  the  least  good-looking. 

Still,  the  sons  of  Big  Thunder  quarrelled  and  fought  in  their  lodges,  and  the  old 
man  continued  to  beat  his  two  remaining  wives.  Death  interposed,  and  obliged 
him  to  cease  so  undignified  an  occupation.  He  died,  and  was  buried  ;  and  his  oldest 
son,  Little  Crow,  reigned  in  his  stead. 

The  new  chief  had  but  little  hope  of  ever  enjoying  peaceably  his  honors.  His 
two  brothers  constantly  interfered  with  him,  and  threatened  his  life.  Finally, 
they  attacked  and  wounded  him  so  severely,  that  he  was  unable  to  use  his  hands. 
He  was  helpless  as  any  of  his  infants,  having  several  at  that  time.  Like  his  father, 
he  was  the  husband  of  three  wives,  all  sisters.  All  day  long  he  sat  in  his  accus 
tomed  seat  in  the  wigwam,  and  the  three  wives  took  their  turns  to  feed  him.  His 
youngest  was  very  pretty,  and  quite  a  child  in  years.  She  never  tired  of  holding 
bread  for  her  husband,  and  dosing  him  with  venison  broth  out  of  a  wooden  bowl — 
both  of  her  own  manufacture. 

The  two  brothers  who  aspired  to  the  chieftainship,  fearing  they  had  gone  too  far, 
left  for  the  prairies,  where  they  stayed  several  weeks,  amusing  themselves  as  best 
they  could.  They  thought  that  by  this  time  the  Indians  would  have  forgotten  their 
outbreak ;  so  they  returned  to  their  village,  and  commenced  discussing  the  politics 
of  the  times  in  their  usual  noisy  and  interfering  manner. 

At  this  crisis,  some  of  the  wisest  and  oldest  men  of  the  clan  put  their  heads 
together,  to  see  what  could  be  done.  They  met  in  council,  talked  and  boasted  a 
great  deal  of  their  own  excellence  in  divers  matters,  and  then  solemnly  took  into 


DACOTA    VILLAGE.  43 

consideration  the  case  of  the  three  brothers.  Having  sown  their  wild  oats  nearly 
a  century  ago,  and  being  unable,  by  reason  of  age  or  infirmity,  to  commit  any  more 
murders,  or  the  like,  in  an  astonishingly  short  space  of  time  they  concluded  to 
uphold  the  majesty  of  Indian  law. 

They  said  that  Big  Thunder  had  been  right  in  his  decision,  and  that  his  two 
rebellious  sons  were  guilty  of  treason  in  not  submitting  to  it ;  that  the  village  was 
always  kept  in  a  ferment  by  these  quarrelsome  young  men ;  therefore,  they  must 
be  quieted :  and  the  surest  way  to  accomplish  this  was  to  blow  their  brains  out. 

The  vote  was  unanimous  to  this  effect.  But  how  was  the  death  of  the  brothers 
to  be  accomplished  ?  for  sometimes  Indians  object  to  dying  before  their  time  comes. 
So  the  council  acted  cautiously  and  with  dispatch. 

They  appointed  three  of  the  braves  executioners.  They  told  them  to  proceed 
at  once  to  the  lodge  of  the  two  younger  brothers,  and  to  send  them  to  the  land  of 
spirits,  whether  they  wished  to  go  or  not.  So  the  three  braves,  without  the  slight 
est  hesitation,  proceeded  to  the  wigwam  where  the  unhappy  brothers  lived,  almost 
apart  from  other  society. 

However  wicked  a  man  may  be,  we  look  upon  him  with  a  sort  of  respect  when 
we  see  him  meet  death  bravely.  Not  when  he  laughs,  and  pretends  not  to  care, 
we  have  no  sympathy  with  him  then ;  for  we  know  that  he  is,  at  heart,  crouching 
at  the  feet  of  the  great  destroyer.  When  we  observe  him  calm,  self-possessed,  it 
may  be,  despairing,  then  there  is  a  chord  in  the  depths  of  our  hearts  that  resounds 
to  his.  We  almost  forget  his  sin  in  the  thought  that  he  is  to  die. 

The  three  braves,  as  they  proceeded  in  silence  to  the  lodge  of  the  brothers — 
what  remembrances  crowded  upon  them !  What  were  they  about  to  do  ? 

These  men  were  the  sons  of  their  former  chief;  they  had  been  their  own  com 
panions,  friends.  In  early  life  they  had  loved  each  other ;  they  had  shared  their 
pleasures,  and  joined  them  in  the  sports  of  boyhood.  It  may  be  they  loved  each 
other  now.  Yet  there  was  no  appeal  from  the  stern  necessity  of  the  case. 

The  brothers  sat  silent  in  their  lodge.  As  its  door  was  lifted  up,  they  could  not 
but  observe  with  what  solemnity  of  aspect  the  three  warriors  entered. 

There  was  no  word  spoken.  The  brothers  knew  their  fate.  They  folded  their 
blankets  about  them,  bowed  their  heads  upon  their  breasts,  and  died. 

Now  there  is  peace  in  Little  Crow's  village ;  and  I  have  been  told  that  the  chief 
has  brought  yet  another  wife — a  fourth  sister — to  his  wigwam. 


DANCE    TO    THE    GIANT. 


NEXT  to  the  Great  Spirit,  among  some  of  our  northwestern  tribes,  is  worshipped 
Haokah,  the  Giant-god.  The  picture  represents  the  dance  in  his  honor,  rarely 
celebrated,  though;  for  even  among  their  bravest  men  are  found  few  who  are 
anxious  to  pay  an  homage  so  painful  in  its  requirements. 

Haokah,  the  Giant-god,  is  cold  in  summer  and  hot  in  winter.  He  is  for  this 
reason,  styled  their  anti-natural  god. 

But  if  a  warrior  dream  of  Haokah,  he  feels  it  a  duty  to  offer  him  a  sacrifice,  lest 
a  dreadful  calamity  befall  him.  He  prevails  upon  some  of  his  friends  to  unite  with 
him  in  the  celebration  of  the  dance. 

For  this  purpose,  at  day-dawn,  they  are  dressed  in  bark  hats  of  a  conical  form, 
and  strips  of  the  same  article  fastened  together  about  their  waists.  On  their  hats 
lightning  is  represented.  The  Giant-god  is  said  to  wear  such  a  hat  when  he  appears 
to  reprove  the  recreant  Sioux.  The  dancers  also  wear  earrings  of  bark. 

The  host  has  his  fire  lighted  by  daybreak,  and  the  unfailing  kettle  on.  In  it 
he  places  a  piece  of  buffalo  meat.  He  then  seats  himself,  to  smoke  until  his  visiters 
arrive. 

Each  one,  as  he  enters,  sits  down  and  smokes,  too ;  and  this  continues  until  the 
water  begins  to  boil,  when  the  dancing  commences  in  earnest. 

It  is  no  child's  play.  Every  limb,  every  muscle,  every  nerve,  must  be  put  in 
requisition.  They  must  sing,  they  must  shout,  they  must  laugh  loud  and  long,  as 
they  jump,  and  twist,  and  attitudinize  in  every  possible  manner.  The  one  who 
makes  the  most  noise  is  the  most  devout  worshipper  of  the  Giant,  and  each  one 
tries  to  outdo  the  other  in  the  use  of  his  legs  and  lungs. 

The  water  bubbles  up  and  boils  over,  and  now  one  of  the  bravest  goes  to  the 
kettle,  putting  his  hand  in  the  boiling  water,  takes  hold  of  the  meat,  shivers,  and 
says,  "  How  cold  it  is !"  Each  dancer  does  the  same,  pretending  like  the  Giant, 
to  feel  cold  when  it  would  be  natural  to  feel  heat.  They  take  portions  of  the 
smoking  meat,  and  eat  it  with  apparent  relish.  They  tear  away  the  mouthfuls, 
chewing  with  horrid  contortions  to  intimate  pleasure.  Thus  they  eat  away,  until 
all  the  meat  is  consumed,  when  they  arrange  themselves  to  dance. 


E    1JCC)    IHKlil    ffiOAMU 


DANCE    TO    THE    GIANT.  45 

The  medicine-man  gives  the  signal.  Again  they  are  yelling,  shouting,  and 
dancing.  The  families  in  the  near  lodges  sit  still  to  listen,  for  they  fear  the  power 
of  the  Giant,  and  they  are  hoping  he  may  be  pleased  with  the  sacrifice  offered  him. 

The  dancers  are  invigorated  by  the  buffalo-meat,  and  they  go  on  with  renewed 
ardor.  The  bark  fringe  about  their  waists  keeps  time  with  their  motions,  and  the 
conical  hats  nod  towards  each  other. 

The  water  boils  and  hisses,  leaping  over  the  sides  of  the  kettle  into  the  blaze. 
The  warriors  laugh  and  shout ;  and  one,  advancing  to  the  kettle,  dips  up  some  of 
the  boiling  water  in  his  hands.  He  stoops  and  throws  it  over  his  back,  singing, 
"  The  water  is  cold  !  the  water  is  cold !" 

The  next  dancer  follows,  performing  the  same  exploit.  Each  one  does  the  same 
in  his  turn ;  and  then  the  warriors  shout  aloud  in  honor  of  the  Giant-god  of  the 
Dacotas. 

"  How  great,"  they  say,  "  is  Haokah,  the  Giant-god !  We  throw  scalding  water 
upon  our  bodies,  and  we  are  not  scalded !  Great  is  Haokah !" 

The  sacrifice  is  thus  made.  The  dancers  are  quite  exhausted,  and  they  disperse. 
The  medicine-man  who  presided  remains,  and  the  host  feels  obliged  to  place  before 
him  all  the  eatables  in  his  lodge ;  then  he  goes  away  too. 

Like  the  Pharisee,  the  medicine-man  loves  to  be  seen  of  men ;  so  he  seats  himself 
in  a  conspicuous  place,  and  talks  to  those  who  gather  round  him,  of  Haokah.  He 
beckons  to  others,  for  he  likes  a  good  audience.  He  shows  them  his  hands,  that 
have  been  repeatedly  in  the  scalding  water,  and  they  are  unharmed.  He  holds 
them  up,  and  praises  the  power  of  Haokah. 

Then  he  tells  them  he  has  seen  the  Giant ;  that  he  dressed  in  many  colors,  and 
wore  a  forked  hat.  One  side  of  his  face  was  red,  the  other  blue.  He  held  the 
thunder  in  his  hand.  "  The  Giant  carries  a  bow  and  arrow,  too,"  continues  the 
medicine-man.  "  These  he  never  need  use,  as  one  look  will  kill  the  game  he 
desires  for  food.  He  strides  across  the  rocks  and  rivers,  taking  in  his  hand  the 
highest  branches  of  the  forest-trees."  All  this  and  a  great  deal  more  the  medicine 
man  tells,  and  delights  himself  with  the  idea  that  his  simple  hearers  fear  him  and 
his  medicine  as  they  do  the  Giant. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Indians,  before  performing  this  dance,  use  some  astrin 
gent  preparations  on  their  bodies,  to  deaden  the  pain,  by  affecting  the  skin.  This, 
however,  they  will  not  acknowledge,  and  there  is  no  proof  of  it. 

The  mass  of  the  people  reverence  the  Giant,  and  pay  respect  even  to  his  name. 
They  talk  often  of  him  in  praise,  speaking  loud,  that  he  may  hear  if  he  be  near 
them,  or  that  the  spirits  in  nature  surrounding  them  may  bear  to  his  ear  the  admi 
ration  expressed  for  him  by  his  people. 


DOG    DANCE    OF    THE    DACOTA S. 


THE  Dacotas  do  not  often  perform  the  dog  dance.  They  pretend  to  attach  great 
importance  to  this  feast,  but  perhaps  they  do  not  fancy  eating  more  frequently  than 
necessary  a  meal  so  little  tempting.  They  eat  the  hearts  of  their  enemies,  they 
declare,  with  as  little  thought  as  the  heart  of  a  dog.  They  design  in  the  dog  feast 
to  show  how  brave  they  are,  possessing,  too,  the  other  good  qualities  of  the  animal. 

On  the  pole,  in  the  centre,  they  hang  the  heart  and  liver  of  a  dog,  after  having 
cooled  them  for  a  few  moments  in  a  bucket  of  water.  This  is  done  by  one  of  their 
priests  or  medicine-men.  The  Indians  form  in  a  circle,  and  after  being  silent  for 
a  short  time,  one  of  them  barks  and  jumps  towards  the  pole.  Another  follows  his 
example.  They  look  cunningly  at  the  meat,  jumping  backwards  and  forwards, 
then  others  bark  and  jump :  they  seem  to  hesitate  for  a  moment  turning  round  as 
they  jump.  All  kinds  of  barking  is  practised,  from  the  snappish  squeaky  bark  of 
a  small  dog,  to  the  low  and  solemn  growling  of  some  more  respectably-sized  animal. 

Suddenly,  one  becomes  courageous,  makes  horrible  contortions,  looks  round  and 
grins,  and,  with  a  sudden  spring,  reaches  the  pole,  bounds,  and  gnaws  off  a  piece 
of  the  raw  meat.  Another  does  the  same.  Another  and  another,  until  each  one 
bites  and  growls,  and  there  is  a  perfect  dog  concert.  This  is  kept  up  until  it  is 
all  eaten ;  then,  after  a  little  more  barking,  the  warriors  break  up  the  dance,  and 
mingle  with  the  spectators. 

An  Indian  lodge  is  not  complete  without  one  or  more  dogs.  The  Indians  are 
very  much  attached  to  them,  though  they  frequently  eat  them.  A  roasted  dog  is 
considered  a  great  luxury  in  an  Indian  family.  They  do  not  trouble  themselves 
to  shave  them  before  cooking.  I  saw  one  ready  to  be  eaten,  when  I  was  passing 
through  an  Indian  encampment.  It  had  been  roasted  before  a  fire,  and  though 
some  parts  of  it  were  quite  brown,  the  bristly  hair  was  sticking  out  in  every 
direction. 

Indian  children  are  very  fond  of  small  dogs.  When  whiskey  is  plenty,  they 
give  them  an  occasional  dram  to  stunt  their  growth.  In  traveling  about,  an 
Indian  woman  or  child  frequently  straps  the  little  dog  on  her  back. 


u   I 


J-s 

Q     g 
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DOG  DANCE  OF  THE  DACOT AS.  47 

An  Indian  woman  carries  upon  her  back  a  portable  house-furnishing  establish 
ment.  There  may  be  found  corn,  and  a  kettle  to  boil  it  in ;  venison,  and  any  other 
eatables  on  hand;  sewing  materials;  a  wooden  tub;  a  chopping  knife;  wooden 
bowls  for  the  family ;  a  baby  strapped  to  its  cradle ;  and  a  dog's  head  is  often 
visible,  close  to  the  child's,  the  dog  looking  about  as  much  as  to  say,  "  This  is  a 
pleasant  mode  of  traveling." 

When  I  saw  the  dog  dance,  many  years  had  intervened  since  it  had  been  cele 
brated.  The  Indians  far  and  near  were  assembled  to  witness  it.  Canoes  were 
flying  down  the  Minesota  and  up  the  Mississippi,  lined  with  Dacotas.  Young 
girls  in  richly-embroidered  cloth  dresses — old  women  in  rags — braves,  with  the 
strong  blood  of  youth  coursing  in  their  veins — old  men  just  able  to  creep  along — 
all  \vanted  to  see  the  dog-dance.  They  came  from  the  region  of  St.  Anthony's 
falls — from  over  the  hill  called  Morgan's  bluff — you  could  not  look  in  any  direction 
without  seeing  them  in  countless  numbers. 

One  of  the  spectators  was  a  famous  Chippewa  chief.  He  was  there  with  a 
number  of  his  people  at  that  time,  to  transact  with  U.  S.  officers,  government 
business. 

He  brought  with  him  an  Indian  girl,  his  niece.  Like  a  figure  seen  in  a  dream, 
I  recall  the  appearance  of  that  young  creature.  Her  large,  full  dark  eyes,  and 
darker  eyelashes,  the  soft  luxuriance  of  her  hair,  the  pearly  whiteness  of  her  teeth, 
her  oval  face,  and  graceful  figure — what  has  become  of  her  ?  Has  this  beautiful 
woman  been  condemned  to  cut  down  trees,  and  bear  burdens  ? 

The  Chippewa  chief  laid  on  the  grass,  and  observed,  with  a  dignified  indiffe 
rence,  the  motions  of  the  dancers.  As  they  assembled,  the  music  commenced. 
Like  a  flood  the  Indians  were  coming  from  all  sides.  Nature  seemed  to  have  put 
on  a  sort  of  coat  of  many  colors,  as  her  children  hurried  to  keep  the  feast,  honored 
by  their  ancestors.  The  dance  began  and  finished ;  the  hoarse  music  ceased  ;  the 
dancers  and  spectators  dispersed  to  their  homes.  Yet  not  to  their  homes,  for  even 
now  must  they  turn  aside,  and  find  another  home.  In  a  year  or  two  not  an  Indian 
will  be  seen  on  this  land,  granted  to  them  by  the  Great  Spirit.  Not  one,  unless 
some  wretched  creature  whom  the  iron  tie  of  patriotism  has  brought  back,  to  look 
once  more  and  die — or  some  other  one  who  is  carried  about  as  a  spectacle,  followed 
from  store  to  tavern — loaded  with  beads,  and  degraded  with  brandy. 

Yet  for  great  and  glorious  purposes  has  been  set  aside  the  beautiful  scene  of  the 
dog  dance — the  fertile  land  of  Minesota. 


GUARDING   THE    COKN   FIELDS. 


THE  picture  represents  the  peculiar  mode  of  the  Indian  women  guarding  from 
the  hungry  blackbirds,  the  corn  they  planted.  They  have  been  watching  its 
growth,  and  calculating  on  a  heavy  crop,  and  it  would  be  too  hard  now  to  lose  the 
advantages  of  their  labor. 

The  women  plant,  cultivate,  and  gather  their  corn,  men  rarely  assuming  any 
trouble  with  this  or  any  other  affairs,  except  those  befitting  one  whose  occupation 
is  war.  For  this  purpose  they  conceive  they  were  created,  and  accordingly  leave  to 
their  wives  and  sisters  all  other  employments. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  keep  off  the  blackbirds  from  the  corn,  as  it  is  ripening. 
Such  numbers  come,  that  they  would,  unless  driven  off,  destroy  an  entire  crop  in  a 
day.  The  mode  of  scaring  them  off  is  an  ingenious  one.  A  scaffold,  six  or  seven 
feet  high,  is  raised  in  the  field,  and  there  the  women  and  children  sit,  watching 
through  the  long  day.  Old  women,  or  those  who  are  feeble  and  cannot  other 
wise  employ  themselves,  generally  perform  this  part.  Children  are  glad  to  be 
called  upon ;  for  while  they  sit  under  the  robe  which  forms  a  kind  of  awning,  they 
can  dance,  or  talk  and  laugh,  or  what  is  still  better,  listen  to  long,  miraculous 
stories  about  beavers  or  bears  that  have  souls  like  men,  or  about  great  black  spiders 
that  have  journeyed  all  over  the  world. 

A  nice  breeze  is  coming  in  from  the  prairie.  The  corn  waves  with  it,  making  a 
gentle,  song-like  noise.  They  can  hear  the  cooling  sound  of  the  river's  waves 
washing  the  base  of  some  overhanging  rock  near  them.  The  thoughtful  grand 
mother  has  brought  them  some  of  her  store  to  eat,  when  they  should  feel  hungry ; 
and  the  hours  pass  away  pleasantly.  But  they  begin  to  be  weary  of  it.  The 
Indian  boy  is  restless ;  he  is  tired  sitting  there.  He  has  a  thousand  wishes ;  he 
wishes  he  had  a  drink  of  water,  he  wishes  something  would  fly  over  for  him  to 
shoot  at  with  his  new  bow  and  arrow ;  he  wishes  the  corn  were  ripe ;  and,  at  last, 
he  wishes  he  were  a  man,  for  he  does  not  like  to  be  like  a  woman,  guarding  corn 
fields,  and  he  says  that  before  long  he  will  be  parching  corn  to  take  with  him  on 
his  first  war-party,  and  that  he  will  not  bring  home  less  than  two  scalps.  His 


GUARDING    THE    COKN    FIELDS.  49 

grandmother  looks  at  him  admiringly,  and  tells  him  he  will  be  a  great  warrior, 
like  his  grandfather,  who  hated  his  enemies.  She  describes  to  him  a  battle-scene 
that  occurred  long  ago,  but  near  the  spot  where  they  are  now  encamped.  She  tells 
him  that  she.  was  hid  with  her  children  during  the  fight,  in  a  hole  that  was  dug  in 
the  ground,  and  after  the  battle  was  over,  her  husband  drew  them  out,  and  how 
happy  they  were,  for  there  were  fresh  moist  scalps  to  be  dressed  and  danced  round, 
and  the  very  river  that  wound  about  the  village  was  red  with  the  blood  of  their 
enemies,  who  escaped  to  their  canoes,  but  were  slain  even  there. 

The  boy  has  become  interested  again,  but  lo !  a  cloud  is  moving  gently  towards 
them,  like  a  great  wave  of  the  sea,  when  the  storm  has  darkened  it.  It  advances, 
and  the  keen  eye  of  the  old  woman  watches  it  until  it  settles  over  the  corn. 
Now  is  the  time.  She  springs  up,  and  going  towards  the  side  of  the  scaffold, 
commences  a  most  unearthly  hooting,  pounding  with  a  stick  upon  an  old  tin  pan, 
or  some  such  unmusical  object.  The  boy  has  a  gourd,  and  he  rattles  it  and  whoops. 
They  are  making  a  hideous  noise  together,  and  the  army  of  blackbirds  is  evidently 
discomfited.  They  fly  about  in  detached  masses — there  is  no  order  in  their  ranks, 
when,  all  at  once,  from  another  near  scaffold,  a  woman  starts  up  yelling  and  howl 
ing  with  her  tin  pan  and  gourd.  It  is  all  over  with  the  blackbirds — confusion  falls 
upon  them  as  a  body,  and  they  retreat,  hungry  as  they  came,  affording  the  hoarse 
women  and  half-distracted  children  an  opportunity  to  recover  their  voices  and 
equanimity.  They  lay  down  under  the  awning  and  doze,  and  are  presently 
invigorated  for  another  onset. 

The  corn  requires  a  constant  watching  to  be  preserved.  When  it  is  nearly  ripe, 
it  is  gathered  and  partially  boiled,  after  which  it  is  shelled  off  with  a  knife,  and 
spread  on  skins  to  dry.  When  it  is  quite  hard,  it  is  deposited  in  sacks  for  winter 
use,  or  it  is  buried  in  what  they  call  a  cache",  near  their  villages,  while  they  are 
on  their  hunts.  On  their  return  they  open  the  cache,  and  live  on  it  as  long  it 
lasts,  or  until  they  get  something  else  to  eat.  A  cach6  is  a  deposit  of  provisions  or 
goods  in  holes  dug  in  the  earth,  and  carefully  covered  over. 

A  great  deal  of  corn  is  used  in  their  feasts,  and  generally  the  Indians  are  very 
fond  of  it,  as  an  article  of  food.  They  lose,  in  a  measure,  their  fondness  for  it 
when  they  live  near  white  people,  and  learn  that  among  other  mysteries  in  life, 
there  are  mysteries  in  cooking.  Yet  it  is  much  valued  by  them,  and  the  prayer, 
"  Great  Spirit,  Father !  help  us  to  kill  our  enemies,  and  give  us  plenty  of  corn,"  is 
often  reverently  uttered  by  the  red  man,  with  his  hands  lifted  up  towards  the 
heavens. 

Lieutenant  Simpson  notices  a  green-corn  dance,  celebrated  among  the  J£mez 
Indians.  These  Indians  raise  corn  on  the  banks  of  the  River  Jemez,  which  is  a 
branch  of  the  Rio  Grande.  The  dance  was  performed  in  the  streets  of  the  village. 
The  dancers  were  men,  and  they  walked  slowly  forward  at  first,  bending  their 


50  EASTMAN'S     AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

bodies.  The  upper  part  of  their  bodies  was  uncovered,  and  painted  red.  Their 
arms  and  legs  were  painted  in  a  variety  of  colors.  On  their  arras  and  about  their 
necks  they  wore  green  bands.  They  were  handsomely  dressed,  bearing  in  one 
hand  a  gourd,  containing  grains  of  corn,  which  they  rattled  in  Indian  style ;  in  the 
other,  a  string,  from  which  was  suspended  some  tortillas.  The  musicians  sat  on 
the  ground,  making,  with  a  gourd  and  smooth  stick,  a  sound  like  grinding  corn. 
Some  of  the  principal  men  accompanied  them,  bearing  stalks  of  the  green  corn. 
They  made  speeches  in  front  of  each  house,  the  family  being  always  ready  there,  to 
receive  and  listen  to  them. 

There  are  times,  when  our  poor  Indians  are  dying  from  want,  when  even  a  few 
grains  of  corn  would  be  most  welcome  to  preserve  life.  I  remember  when  many 
died  from  tearing  the  unripe  ears  from  the  stalks,  and  eating  them  quickly  as  they 
tore  them  off.  They  were  too  proud  to  complain,  and  assistance  was  rendered  too 
late  for  many  of  them. 

The  Indians  instructed  the  Puritans  on  their  arrival  on  our  shores,  in  the  way  of 
cultivating  and  preserving  Indian  corn.  They  gave  them  corn,  too,  when  they  were 
suffering  from  famine.  They  taught  them  many  things  useful  to  them  in  their  new 
home.  Often  the  children  of  the  English  were  lost  in  the  forests  of  the  new  world ; 
the  Indians  fed  them,  and  restored  them.  They  bore  them  in  their  canoes  and  on 
their  backs  across  our  streams  and  rivers — they  showed  them  much  kindness,  the 
aborigines  of  our  country ;  and  now,  after  so  short  a  space  of  time,  we  smile  as  we 
look  at  the  picture  of  their  women  guarding  all  that  remains  of  their  once  great 
wealth.  Then  they  owned  all — now  we  yield  them  a  little  room  to  hunt  upon  our 
prairies,  and  to  plant  corn  "  that  they  may  live  and  not  die." 


*  *  , 


GATHERING    WILD    RICE. 

THE  Dacotas  told  me  that  they  believed  Wa-kun-ton-ka,  the  Great  Spirit,  made 
all  things,  save  the  thunder  and  wild  rice. 

Thunder,  they  said,  was  a  large  bird,  and  its  mighty  wings  fluttering  through 
the  air  made  the  noise  we  hear.  Thunder  was  a  god  whom  their  ancestors  wor 
shipped,  who  loved  and  protected  the  Dacotas ;  but  wild  rice  was  given  them  for 
food,  and  it  came  of  itself. 

Wild  rice  is  a  favorite  and  valuable  article  of  food  with  the  Indians  of  Minesota 
and  Wisconsin.  It  is  of  a  darker  color  than  the  rice  growing  in  our  Southern 
country,  and  when  prepared  for  use  has  a  sweet  and  slightly  burned  taste.  It  is 
very  nutritious,  and  its  gathering  and  preparation  are  important  items  in  the  edu 
cation  of  an  Indian  woman. 

The  wild  rice  grows  luxuriantly  in  the  lakes  in  Minesota,  and  along  the  borders 
of  the  river  which  bears  the  same  name. 

Mine-Sota  means  whitish  water.  There  is  a  formation  of  white-looking  mud 
about  the  river,  and  this  gave  it  its  name. 

We  have  not,  in  our  country,  a  river  more  beautiful.  It  winds  tranquilly  through 
its  fair  valley,  bearing  its  bright  course  towards  the  turbid  waters  of  the  Mississippi. 
Could  we  translate  the  murmur  of  its  waves  into  a  history  of  all  they  have  seen 
and  heard,  how  interesting  would  it  be  ! 

What  treasures  of  mine  and  forest  lie  around  it !  What  pictures  of  beauty  are 
seen  on  its  shores !  How  long  have  the  red  men  hunted  and  reposed  beside  it ! 
How  often  has  blood  dyed  its  stream,  as  foe  grappled  with  foe  in  the  light  barks 
that  bore  them  ! — as  the  scalp,  dripping  with  blood,  was  reflected  in  the  pure  mirror 
of  waters  beneath ! 

Or,  could  we  read  a  prophecy  of  its  future,  how  will  the  white  man  toil  where 
the  red  man  died !  How  will  houses,  and  noisy  machines,  displace  the  lodge,  the 
burial-ground,  and  the  bark  canoes !  The  aged  orator  stood  majestic,  and  rehearsed 
to  his  unlearned  but  admiring  people  glorious  deeds  of  their  ancestors ;  there  will 
shrewd  and  money-loving  men  chaffer  and  bargain,  and  triumph  over  the  gold  they 
have  made ;  while  woman,  proud  and  learned  and  beautiful,  will  stand  in  rustling 


52  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

silk  and  look  down  on  the  very  waters  where  the  Indian  maidens,  resting  in  their 
canoes,  gathered  and  winnowed  wild  rice,  gossipping  the  while  of  their  neighbors' 
affairs,  and  it  may  be,  of  those  of  their  own  hearts. 

This  time,  though  rapidly  approaching,  is  not  yet  come.  Indian  women  are  still 
gathering  wild  rice  on  the  lakes  and  streams  of  the  Northwest. 

The  rice  grows  in  water  that  may  be  from  an  inch  to  six  feet  in  depth.  The 
usual  height  of  the  stalk  is  five  feet,  but  it  sometimes  grows  as  high  as  eight  feet 
above  the  water.  Early  in  October,  or  in  the  latter  part  of  September,  it  is  ripe 
for  gathering. 

The  girls  of  an  Indian  village  make  quite  a  frolic  of  gathering  it.  They  paddle 
about  the  lake,  calling  to  each  other  from  their  various  canoes,  and  playing  with 
the  waters  until  the  notion  takes  them  to  go  to  work.  They  then  push  up  to  the 
shore,  and  gather  in  their  hands  a  bundle  of  stalks,  bend  them  over  the  canoe,  and, 
with  a  short  club,  beat  out  the  kernels,  that  fall  into  the  canoe.  This  is  continued 
until  the  canoe  is  quite  full ;  then  they  go  ashore,  discharge  their  cargo,  and  return 
for  another,  continuing  this  until  they  have  gathered  as  much  as  they  want.  The 
season  is  delightful,  the  gay,  rich  livery  of  October  on  hill  and  tree,  the  weather 
clear  and  cool ;  so  that  the  time  of  gathering  wild  rice  is  quite  a  festival  among 
them. 

Then  the  rice  must  be  prepared  for  use.  A  scaffold  is  made,  four  or  five  feet 
high,  and  covered  with  small  saplings  laid  loosely  across  it ;  on  this  the  rice  is  laid 
when  taken  from  the  canoe.  Under  it  a  slow  fire  is  kept  until  the  rice  is  quite 
dry,  when  the  hulls  are  easily  taken  off. 

To  take  off  the  hulls,  a  shallow  hole  is  dug  in  the  ground,  and  a  skin  placed  over 
it;  in  the  skin  a  small  portion  of  the  rice  is  placed  at  a  time,  and  an  Indian  jumps 
and  sings,  and  dances  on  the  rice  until  it  is  sufficiently  beaten.  The  rice  is  then 
put  into  basins  or  kettles,  and  held  over  the  fire  until  half  parched ;  it  is  thus  ready 
for  use,  and  will  keep  in  all  weathers  without  mildew  or  any  injury.  It  is  preserved 
in  sacks  made  of  skins.  A  great  deal  of  it  is  eaten  at  their  feasts. 

The  season  for  gathering  wild  rice  does  not  last  more  than  four  or  five  days. 
After  it  is  ripe,  the  first  strong  wind  shakes  off  the  kernels  into  the  waters.  On 
this  subsist  the  numberless  wild  fowl  that  frequent  the  country  where  the  rice 
grows.  Ducks  of  every  variety,  geese,  and  birds  of  all  sizes  and  kinds,  find 
millions  of  acres  covered  with  this  pleasant  food,  upon  which  they  fatten ;  while 
the  Indians  gather,  in  proportion,  but  a  small  quantity  of  it. 


Cap'  .S  L'ujtrna 


PI  26 


Wtoflramja  jpawaairifoig  IfimdL 


INDIAN    WOMEN    PROCURING    FUEL. 


ALL  the  labor  among  Indian  nations  is  performed  by  the  women,  and  not  the 
least  of  their  burdens  is  the  procuring  of  fuel  for  family  use.  The  picture  repre 
sents  two  women  thus  engaged.  One  of  them  is  pulling  against  a  stump,  endea 
voring  to  get  up  with  her  load,  to  carry  it  to  her  canoe,  which  is  waiting  not  far 
off.  The  young  mother,  the  principal  figure  in  the  picture,  with  her  bundle  of 
wood  on  her  back,  her  child  on  her  shoulder,  and  her  paddle  in  her  hand,  has 
almost  reached  her  canoe,  where  she  can  rest  herself  awhile,  before  starting  for 
home.  She  has  her  paddle  with  her,  lest  some  one  might  fancy  her  canoe  while 
she  was  gathering  her  wood,  and  by  taking  the  paddle,  she  renders  the  canoe  use 
less.  The  weight  of  her  burden  is  pressing  against  her  forehead,  for  it  is  attached 
to  the  strap  which  she  wears  around  her  head,  and  which  the  Indians  call  a-pe- 
kun.  She  is  tired  and  thoughtful,  and  will  be  glad  to  take  her  appointed  seat  near 
the  door  of  her  lodge,  and  to  put  the  babe  aside,  strapped  to  its  wooden  cradle. 

The  Indians  do  not  lay  up  stores  of  fuel,  but  get  it  for  immediate  use  as  they 
need.  They  rarely,  for  this  purpose,  cut  down  a  tree,  but  use  the  dead  branches 
they  can  break  off,  or  old  trees  that  have  fallen.  When  encamped  in  the  summer, 
it  is  comparatively  easy  to  carry  it  so  short  a  distance,  needing  it  only  for 
purposes  of  cooking ;  but,  when  residing  at  their  permanent  villages  on  the  banks 
of  lakes  or  rivers,  where  the  trees  are  all  cut  down,  it  is  a  heavy  task.  They  must 
go  a  distance  in  their  small  canoes,  get  it,  and  cut  it  as  they  can,  and  then  bear  it 
to  their  canoes,  and  make  their  way  home.  It  is  carried,  as  indeed  all  their  bur 
dens  are,  on  their  backs,  by  means  of  the  a-pe-kun  string,  made  of  raw  hide,  and 
the  strap  carried  around  the  head. 

An  Indian  father,  brother,  or  husband,  never  condescends  to  help  his  wife  in 
this,  or  any  work  she  may  have  to  do.  He  would  be  disgraced  for  ever  in  Indian 
society,  should  he  be  so  considerate.  A  young  warrior  may  be  desperately  in  love, 
and  plead  earnestly  with  a  maiden  to  accept  his  suit, — he,  seated  on  a  rock  or  tree- 
stump,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  according  to  Indian  notions  of  costume, 
she,  cutting  down  wood  to  carry  to  her  mother's  lodge — but  though  he  vows  eter 
nal  fidelity,  and  compares  her  to  the  graceful  deer  or  the  stately  swan,  he  never 
dreams  of  assisting  her  in  her  tiresome  occupation.  Indeed,  did  his  affection 


54  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

prompt  him  to  an  act  so  degrading  to  his  dignity,  the  maiden  would  despise  him 
instead  of  being  grateful. 

The  Indians  use  very  little  fuel.  Their  lodges  are  easily  warmed,  a  fire  in  the 
centre  warms,  and  answers  all  purposes  for  cooking,  for  fifteen  or  twenty  persons. 
They  use  dry  wood  altogether,  thus  lighting  their  wigwams.  The  old  people 
require  perfect  decorum  of  conduct  in  the  lodge  at  night,  and  as  there  are  persons 
coming  in  and  out  constantly,  and  a  great  amount  of  courting  going  on  at  all  times, 
the  cheerful  pine-knot  is  frequently  thrown  in,  by  some  grandmother  or  watchful 
friend,  that  she  may  see  that  everything  is  as  it  should  be.  She  must  watch  the 
countenances  of  the  youngsters  to  whom  she  is  relating  wonderful  stories  of  the 
storm-spirits  or  the  giant-gods ;  and  how  could  she  tell  in  the  dark  whether  they 
were  listening  to  her  advice,  or  whether  they  were  at  some  of  the  sly  pranks,  so 
famous  among  boys  and  girls  from  two  years  old  to  twelve.  For  aught  she  knew 
they  might  be  pulling  each  others  ears,  or  be  pretending  to  take  each  others  scalps, 
if  the  firelight  did  not  put  a  check  upon  them. 

A  very  aged  woman  is  frequently  seen  bearing  a  heavy  burden,  and  on  account 
of  the  hard  life  she  leads,  she  appears  as  old  again  as  she  really  is.  Indian 
women  stoop  early  in  life,  and  are  almost  bent  double,  many  of  them,  when  they 
are  yet  young  in  years. 

The  Dacota  women  have  fanciful  stories  of  Cha-o-tee-da,  the  god  of  the  woods, 
and  of  his  attendants,  the  birds  of  the  forests,  and  of  Canotidan,  a  god  who 
dwells  in  a  hollow  tree  in  the  depths  of  the  woods.  The  little  birds  who  dwell  in 
the  highest  branches  of  the  trees  are  sentinels,  watching  for  the  approach  of  the 
enemies  of  these  gods,  and,  as  they  see  and  hear  a  long  way  off,  they  give  informa 
tion  that  enables  the  gods  to  prepare  to  give  them  battle.  Many  an  hour  is  passed 
by  the  mother  or  grandmother  in  telling  the  children  what  she  has  seen  and  heard 
of  the  gods  of  the  woods,  while  gathering  the  fuel  they  are  now  using. 


13) 
SsJ 


a, 


BALL-PLAY    ON    THE    ICE. 


THE  game  of  ball  is  universally  popular  among  the  North  American  Indians. 
Almost  all  of  the  tribes  play  it,  though  each  tribe  has  its  peculiar  mode.  They 
play  it  in  small  parties  or  in  large ;  on  the  ice  in  winter,  or  on  the  prairies  in 
summer.  In  some  tribes  it  is  customary  to  use  one  bat-stick  in  throwing  the  ball ; 
in  others,  one  is  held  in  each  hand.  In  winter,  the  Indians  adorn  themselves  with 
their  choicest  finery,  dressing  in  their  very  best ;  in  summer,  they  hardly  dress  at 
all ;  so  that  the  same  game  makes  a  variety  of  pictures,  seen  at  different  times, 
and  under  different  circumstances. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  the  parties  should  be  equal  in  number ;  braves  of  one 
village  send  a  messenger  to  those  of  another,  challenging  them  to  a  game  of  ball ; 
or  those  of  a  large  village  invite  those  of  two  or  more  small  villages  to  the  contest. 
The  challenge  is  always  accepted ;  old  men,  young  men,  and  boys,  are  eager  for  the 
fun.  It  must  here  be  remembered,  that  each  Indian  feels  it  a  sort  of  duty  to  enjoy 
himself  in  the  same  customs  as  did  his  ancestors ;  and  in  the  game  of  ball,  duty 
and  inclination  meet  most  harmoniously. 

The  time  appointed  has  come,  and  the  men  are  assembled  on  both  sides.  Two 
marks  are  set  up  on  the  ice  about  half  a  mile  apart.  The  game  is  to  commence  at 
a  point  half-way  between  these  points.  Each  side  has  its  limits,  and  the  object  in 
this  game  is  for  the  combatants  on  one  side  to  get  the  ball  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
other.  Whichever  side  shall  accomplish  this  will  be  entitled  to  all  the  prizes  that 
are  displayed  to  induce  emulation. 

The  ball  is  caught  up  in  a  bat-stick  three  feet  in  length,  curved  at  the  end  so  as 
to  form  a  hoop,  three  or  four  inches  in  diameter.  Through  this  hoop  a  few  thongs 
of  raw  hide  are  drawn,  so  as  to  form  a  kind  of  net,  which  holds  the  ball  when  it  is 
caught.  One  of  the  Indians,  catching  it  in  his  net,  throws  it  towards  the  boundary 
of  the  other  party ;  it  is  caught  by  one  of  that  party,  and  thrown  back  again ;  and 
so  on.  The  utmost  strength  and  agility  are  exercised,  and  often  with  little  effect ; 
for  the  ball  is  often  kept  going  from  one  side  to  the  other  all  day  without  exceeding 
either  boundary.  Sometimes  the  game  continues  several  days,  the  parties  stopping 


56  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

to  eat  and  sleep  a  little,  and  then  arousing,  with  a  double  energy,  to  renew  the 
contest. 

Before  the  game  commences,  heavy  bets  are  made  on  the  result ;  a  gun  is  bet 
against  a  blanket,  a  pair  of  leggins  against  a  tomahawk,  an  embroidered  coat  against 
a  buffalo  robe.  These  bets  are  given  in  charge  of  some  old  men  of  the  tribe,  who 
distribute  them  to  the  winners  when  the  game  is  over.  While  the  game  is  going 
on,  these  men  cheer  the  different  parties,  laugh  aloud,  call  to  them  to  exert  them 
selves,  and,  being  too  old  to  use  their  legs,  make  up  for  it  by  an  extra  use  of  the 
lungs.  Sometimes  one  of  the  players  becomes  much  injured;  he  is  struck  by  the 
ball  or  bat-stick,  or  falls,  and  is  trodden  upon  by  some  one  running  over  him ;  but 
he  must  not  expect  any  sympathy. 

Sometimes  an  Indian  is  so  expert  as  to  catch  the  ball,  and  run  to  the  limits  of 
the  opposing  party  in  time  to  throw  it  back  to  his  own.  This  is  allowed  by  the 
rules  of  the  game.  The  picture  represents  this  movement.  The  one  that  has  the 
ball  is  running  against  time,  pursued  by  the  crowd.  If,  however,  one  of  the  oppo 
site  party  overtake  him,  he  can  knock  it  out  of  his  net  by  a  mere  touch  of  the  bat- 
stick.  This  his  own  party  are  trying  to  prevent,  by  warding  off  the  blows,  so  as 
to  enable  him  to  get  as  near  the  limits  as  possible  before  throwing  the  ball. 

I  saw  the  game  played  on  the  St.  Peter's  River,  in  the  depth  of  winter.  The 
surrounding  hills  were  white  with  snow,  and  the  ice,  dark  and  heavy-looking  in 
some  parts,  glistened  like  the  sun  in  others.  The  scene  was  inexpressibly  wild. 
The  long,  gaunt  boughs  of  the  trees,  leafless,  and  nodding  with  the  wind  towards 
the  dark,  heavy  evergreens  among  them ;  the  desolate  appearance  of  nature  con 
trasted  with  the  exciting  motions  and  cries  of  the  Indians.  It  was  impossible  even 
for  the  mere  spectator  to  be  unmoved ;  he  must  feel  an  interest  in  the  game,  until 
the  ball  has  been  at  length  thrown  beyond  one  of  the  limits,  and  the  tired  and 
hard-breathing  men  receive  the  prizes  awarded  them. 

Then  comes  the  best  time  of  all ;  for  the  old  medicine-men  are  again  depositing 
bets  on  the  place  fixed  to  receive  them.  There  are  no  more  tomahawks  and  hunt 
ing-coats,  but  women's  gear  and  trinkets  are  tastefully  arranged,  and  the  women  of 
the  two  parties  are  going  to  try  their  skill,  as  their  great-grandmothers  had  done 
before  them.  Young  girls  are  there,  ready  to  begin  the  game,  their  dresses  trimmed 
with  ribands  and  shining  with  beads  and  ornaments  of  every  kind,  their  cheeks 
glowing  with  a  spot  of  vermilion,  to  contrast  with  their  black  hair  and  eyes.  Their 
frames  are  lithe  and  graceful,  their  arms  round,  and  their  ankles  small  and  beauti 
fully  formed,  tinkling  with  little  bells  fastened  around  them.  Older  women  are 
there,  adorned  and  painted  too ;  but  they  are  beginning  to  wrinkle  and  stoop  with 
the  life  of  toil  to  which  the  usages  of  the  red  men  condemn  them.  There  are  older 
women  still — wrinkled  old  hags,  too  old  even  for  dress  or  paint,  bent  and  bony, 
with  their  eyes  sunken,  and  their  fingers  clutching  the  bat-stick,  and  their  careless 


BALL-PLAY    ON    THE    ICE.  57 

gaze  fixed  upon  the  clothing  suspended  before  them  for  the  winners.  They  are 
eager  to  begin ;  for  they  are  cold  in  this  hard  season,  and  there  is  not  one,  it  may 
be,  to  feed  them,  or  to  give  them  the  means  of  comfort.  How  must  they  run,  and 
throw,  and  wrestle,  for  these  prizes,  caring  not  for  falls,  or  blows,  or  blood ! 

How  much  more  dreadful  they  look,  now  that  the  game  is  fairly  going  on,  than 
did  the  men !  their  faces  often  smeared  with  blood,  their  hair  unconfined,  their 
tattered  clothes  hanging  about  them,  as  they  fly  with  their  utmost  speed.  Women 
ought  not  to  be  there.  The  young  look  well  enough,  with  their  bright  eyes  and 
white  teeth,  and  their  healthful,  graceful  limbs ;  but  the  old  woman  of  sixty — nay, 
seventy — with  those  fierce  passions  glaring  from  her  dark  face,  with  her  limbs  now 
exerted  to  a  supernatural  strength,  now  tottering  and  failing  with  a  weakness  from 
which  it  is  in  vain  for  her  again  to  rally. 

The  women's  PLAY  is  over,  and  they  crowd  towards  the  medicine-men  to  receive 
the  prizes.  The  young  blush  even  through  their  vermilion,  as  they  receive  the 
well-earned  rewards,  the  poor  old  women  seizing  impatiently  their  dues,  while 
among  those  who  failed  may  be  seen  careless  faces,  and  discontented  faces,  and 
faces  such  as  one  may  never  wish  to  see  again ;  faces  full  of  misery  and  disappoint 
ment,  and  all  the  sad  passions  of  the  heart.  Even  among  savages,  woman  appears 
to  a  disadvantage  when  out  of  her  sphere ;  better  in  the  wigwam,  or  tanning  the 
deer-skin,  than  holding  the  bat-stick  her  husband  has  just  laid  down. 


SPEAKING    MUSK-EATS    IN    WINTER. 


IT  is  a  grand  amusement,  demolishing  the  houses  of  the  musk-rats  in  winter. 
The  Indians,  in  their  warm  winter  clothes,  are  keen  for  the  sport,  and  destroy  a 
settlement  of  these  industrious  little  animals  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  bracing 
exercise,  as  well  as  for  the  money  they  hope  to  receive  as  their  reward.  The  lake 
is  dotted  with  the  houses  along  its  grassy  side,  where  the  evergreen  covered  with 
snow  bends  towards  it. 

In  the  distance,  the  picture  represents  the  hunter  holding  up  to  the  sight  of  his 
comrade  the  rat  he  has  just  speared;  while  the  successful  one  in  the  foreground  can 
hardly  take  time  to  look,  so  busy  is  he  in  filling  his  sack,  which,  lying  on  the  ice, 
is  almost  half  full  of  game.  When  the  day  is  gone,  and  gloomy  shadows  begin  to 
fall  over  the  lake,  they  will  have  much  ado  to  carry  home  their  burdens  to  the 
wigwam. 

In  the  lakes  and  streams  that  flow  into  the  Upper  Mississippi,  the  musk-rat 
abounds.  The  skins  are  used  for  making  hats ;  numbers  of  them  are  sent  to 
Europe,  and  many  of  them  are  used  in  the  United  States.  The  demand  for  them 
has  greatly  decreased  since  other  materials  have  been  found  for  hats  and  such 
purposes.  The  Indian  hunter  now  gets  a  small  price  for  a  dozen  skins,  when,  some 
years  ago,  the  same  number  would  have  paid  quite  a  large  bill  at  the  trader's  store 
where  he  dealt,  or  have  obtained,  in  exchange,  blankets,  powder,  clothing,  or  what 
ever  he  might  most  need  at  the  time. 

The  musk-rat  is  a  playful,  sagacious  animal,  and  constructs  his  house  differently 
in  different  situations,  and  according  to  the  season  of  the  year. 

It  is  worth  while  visiting  one  of  their  settlements  on  a  moonlight  night.  Like 
our  fashionables,  they  live  only  at  night ;  that  is,  it  is  only  then  that  their  brilliant 
qualities  are  to  be  displayed. 

They  see  indistinctly  in  the  day,  and  appear  to  pass  the  time  heavily,  but  at 
night  all  their  faculties  are  wide  awake. 

The  pond  or  stream,  the  scene  of  these  revels,  is  a  sort  of  ball-room,  more  splen 
didly  illuminated  by  the  moonbeams,  than  ever  gas  or  chandelier  lit  up  our  rooms. 
On  the  little  tufts  of  grass  on  the  edges  of  the  lake,  some  of  the  more  sedate  and 


SPEARING    MUSK-RATS    IN    WINTER.  59 

thoughtful  of  the  fraternity  stand  and  look  on  with  a  patronising  air,  while  the 
others  are  frolicking  in  the  gay  moonlight.  They  cross  and  re-cross — they  plunge 
in  and  out — they  swim — they  dive — and,  when  fatigued,  extend  their  little  dark 
bodies  over  the  water  to  rest.  They  present  a  pleasant  social  picture  of  society. 
Observe  them  closer.  There  is  one  at  a  little  distance  swimming  calmly  along ; 
he  dives  suddenly  out  of  sight,  and  the  bubbling  water  closes  over  him,  and  becomes 
tranquil.  There  he  is  again,  quite  close  to  us,  joining  his  companions  in  their  wild 
freaks,  flapping  the  water  with  his  tail,  in  a  state  of  perfect  exultation.  He  is 
quite  a  contrast  to  those  sober,  industrious  ones  on  the  bank,  who  are  dragging 
about  the  roots  of  small  plants  growing  near,  to  repair  their  houses,  or,  it  may  be, 
to  build  new  ones.  From  under  the  old  tree  stump,  near  which  they  are  working, 
are  starting  out  a  couple  more  merry  fellows,  who  have  been  engaged  in  some 
speculation,  and  have  just  found  time  to  come  to  the  gay  party.  They  are  already 
splashing  and  dashing  in  the  middle  of  the  pond,  enjoying  the  opportunity  of 
throwing  off  the  cares  of  business  or  of  state. 

But,  though  we  cannot  guarantee  the  business  or  the  cares,  we  can  the  gayeties  of 
these  happy  little  animals;  for,  look  you,  sir,  if  ever  you  saw  fairies  themselves 
enjoying  their  revels  more  under  the  silvery  moonbeams,  than  do  these  humble  but 
wonderful  little  creatures ! 

If,  however,  you  have  come  not  to  observe  but  to  kill,  be  wary  !  One  flash  of 
your  gun  will  scatter  the  party,  and  in  the  depths  of  the  little  lake,  on  whose 
surface  they  are  disporting,  will  they  crouch  and  lie,  until  you  are  tired  of  waiting 
for  them. 

If  found  near  the  banks  of  rivers,  the  houses  of  the  musk-rat  are  built  where  the 
current  is  not  very  strong.  They  always  take  care,  too,  in  selecting  their  homes  to 
be  out  of  the  way  of  the  freshets. 

We  know  not  if  they  have  prophets  or  spiritual  rappers  in  their  society,  but 
many  things  look  strange  in  their  political  and  domestic  economy.  In  the  seasons 
that  the  freshets  are  most  powerful,  the  musk-rat  has  known  all  about  it  before 
hand,  and  has  built  his  home  upon  such  a  foundation,  that  when  the  rain  descends, 
and  the  floods  come,  and  the  winds  blow  upon  it,  it  will  not  fall.  May  we  not 
learn  from  him  ? 

Yet  are  there  imperfections  in  their  state  of  society  as  in  ours.  They  sometimes 
fall  out  with  each  other,  though  this  is  when  hunger  has  closed  the  door  of  bene 
volence  in  their  hearts ;  and  in  seasons  of  famine  they  go  so  far  as  to  eat  each  other 
up.  At  other  times  they  get  along  very  well — they  build  houses,  take  care  of  their 
young,  and  enjoy  the  passing  hour. 

The  musk-rat  builds  his  house  of  two  stories.  He  lives  generally  in  the  upper 
one,  but  when  disturbed  or  alarmed  quickly  takes  refuge  in  the  lower.  He  makes 
comfortable  beds  of  grass  in  his  house,  on  which  to  repose  when  he  has  worked 


60  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL     PORTFOLIO. 

or  played  too  hard.  My  reader  knows  that  from  this  animal  musk  is  obtained,  but 
no  doubt,  there  are  many  things  about  this  and  all  of  God's  works  that  would  make 
us  wiser  and  better  did  we  know  them  all. 

One  of  the  stories  of  the  musk-rat's  house  is  under,  and  the  other  above  the 
water.  The  Indian  knowing  his  habits  seeks  thus  to  take  him.  He  has  a  long 
iron  spear,  and  going  softly  up  to  the  south  side  of  the  house,  and  judging  from 
the  shape  and  size  of  it,  the  position  of  the  upper  chamber,  thrusts  his  spear  in. 
They  are  a  clannish,  gossiping  set,  these  musk-rats,  and  the  hunter  is  sure  to  find 
enough  there  to  render  it  easy  for  him  to  kill  one  or  two  of  them.  The  rest  escape 
to  the  water,  and  the  Indian  pulls  away  the  roots  of  Avhich  the  house  is  built,  and 
takes  off  the  dead  rats.  He  then  fills  up  the  hole,  and  goes  to  the  next  house, 
attacking  it  after  the  same  fashion,  and  so  on,  until  he  has  one  or  more  victims  in 
every  house  in  the  lake. 

By  this  time,  those  that  he  first  attacked  have  recovered  from  their  panic,  and 
returned.  They  are  probably  discussing  the  disappearance  of  their  friend,  and  the 
damage  done  their  domicil.  Again  the  spear  is  thrust  in,  and  again  the  party  is 
routed,  and  thus  in  the  next  house.  In  this  manner  great  numbers  are  killed, 
especially  in  the  winter. 

In  summer,  the  Indians  use  a  trap,  setting  it  on  the  borders  of  the  lake ;  when 
the  musk-rats  come  out  to  feed,  they  step  on  the  springs,  and  are  taken.  A  good 
hunter  will,  in  this  way,  catch  a  hundred  rats  a  day. 

When  he  takes  them  home,  his  wife  skins  them,  and  prepares  the  skins  for 
drying.  She  cooks  the  musk-rat  for  her  husband's  supper.  He  considers  them  very 
palatable  when  he  has  no  other  food. 

Yet  the  spearing  musk-rats  in  winter  gives  far  more  satisfaction  to  the  Indian 
hunter,  than  the  supper  he  afterwards  makes.  He  greatly  prefers  the  mallard 
duck,  the  wild  turkey,  or  the  dainty  venison. 


1   M  »? A  N      S  HO  O  T  I  N  (r  -"  F  I  S  H 


•  ,     .mo  ,v 


SHOOTING    FISH. 


AN  eccentric  friend  frequently  quotes  to  me  the  saying  of  another,  "  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  human  nature  in  man."  There  is  still  more,  I  insist,  in  boys. 

Among  the  enlightened  or  the  uncivilized,  it  is  all  the  same ;  boys  love  fun  and 
mischief  to  the  death.  They  will  dig  bait,  swing  June  bugs,  tease  cats,  or  shoot 
fish,  as  the  opportunity  may  present. 

An  Indian  man  sometimes  shoots  fish,  but  it  is  a  favorite  pastime  of  the  Indian 
boy. 

In  summer,  a  party  collects,  and  tramps  over  prairie  and  marsh  to  the  appointed 
place.  This  is  near  the  water's  edge,  by  the  roots  of  some  old  tree,  or  on  a  rock 
where  there  are  tall  grass  and  large  leaves  growing  out  of  the  water — favorite 
places  of  resort  for  the  fish.  Here  the  boys  seat  themselves,  bow  and  arrow  in 
hand,  waiting  the  time  to  shoot.  Here  they  wait,  determined  to  kill. 

They  are  not  hungry,  and  will,  very  likely,  throw  the  fish  away  afterwards ;  but 
they  are  bent  on  shooting  a  number,  to  gratify  a  certain  propensity  to  destroy,  and 
to  show  superior  dexterity.  They  are,  like  all  boys,  ready  for  anything  in  the  way 
of  fun.  For  a  small  reward,  there  is  no  limit  to  the  number  of  mischievous  atroci 
ties  they  would  commit.  As  nothing  more  agreeable  presents  itself  at  the  present 
time,  they  are  congregated  here  to  shoot  fish. 

They  can,  however,  be  perfectly  quiet  and  well-behaved,  if  there  be  an  object  in 
it ;  and  if  you  will  watch  the  boy  whose  turn  it  is  to  shoot,  as  he  sits  there,  de 
murely  waiting  the  time  to  let  fly  his  arrow,  you  will  see  as  sanctified  an  expres 
sion  of  goodness  as  ever  adorned  the  picture  of  a  saint. 

He  is  not  particular  as  to  the  kind  of  fish ;  be  it  pike,  bass,  pickerel,  catfish,  or 
perch,  it  is  all  the  same.  He  wants  the  fun  of  shooting  fish,  and  he  will  have  it 
too,  for  there  is  a  fine,  handsome  pickerel  floating  noiselessly  towards  him.  He 
watches  it ;  it  is  almost  near  enough.  One  moment  more — it  is  time !  His  arrow 
pierces  the  fish,  and  with  the  light  string  attached  to  the  arrow  he  draws  it  in. 
The  boy  exults ;  it  is  no  great  affair  to  shoot  a  fish,  but  something  is  killed,  and 
that  is  what  they  all  came  after.  It  is  now  some  other  boy's  turn ;  and  thus  they 


62  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

go,  as  earnestly  shooting  fish  as  if  the  Great  Spirit  had  put  them  into  the  world  for 
this  especial  purpose. 

The  Indians  highly  prize  their  boys,  indulging  them  much  more  than  their 
daughters.  Great  trouble  is  taken  to  teach  them  what  they  ought  to  know.  They 
are  charged  to  preserve  the  reputation  for  bravery  enjoyed  by  their  ancestors. 
"You  must  be  like  your  father  and  grandfather,  whose  lodges  were  hung  with 
scalps,"  an  Indian  mother  or  sister  frequently  says  to  the  boy  who  can  yet  hardly 
hold  his  bow  and  arrow. 

The  medicine-men  charge  themselves  with  the  education  of  the  boys,  to  a  great 
degree.  They  make  them  fight  mock  battles,  urging  them  on,  and  shouting  at  a 
pretended  victory. 

Sometimes  the  little  fellows  are  badly  hurt,  and  go  to  their  mothers  to  be  con 
soled.  One  is  taken  prisoner  with  the  form  of  a  real  event  of  the  kind ;  the 
wounded  are  borne  off,  the  dead  hastily  carried  away.  In  this  way  the  boys  learn 
to  be  soldiers ;  which  is  all  that  they  need  know,  according  to  Indian  notions  of 
education. 

I  remember  noticing  a  party  of  boys,  gaily  adorned,  on  the  occasion  of  some 
scalps  being  in  course  of  preparation  for  the  scalp-dance.  The  scalps  were  hung  on 
poles  about  the  village.  The  boys  walked  round  and  round  them,  heard  over  and 
over  again,  from  the  braves  who  took  them,  the  incidents  of  the  battle.  They 
were  murmuring  at  the  slowness  of  time,  that  did  not  make  them  old  and  strong 
enough  to  go  out  with  the  war-parties,  and  return  home  victorious. 

A  sad  school  this  for  human  nature.  And  will  it  ever  be  so  ?  If  these  boys, 
with  their  vigorous  constitutions  and  intelligent  minds,  were  properly  cared  for, 
what  men  they  would  make !  Mathematics  and  the  Latin  Grammar  would  be 
better  for  them  than  looking  at  scalps,  or  attacking  hornets'  nests.  The  Christian 
religion  would  do  more  to  make  them  useful  and  happy  than  listening  through  the 
long  night  to  stories  of  spirits  and  giants.  I  wish  our  legislators  thought  so  too ; 
then  would  schools  be  built  in  the  Indian  country,  and  churches  would  stand  beside 
them.  Then  would  other  things  interest  the  Indian  boy  besides  war  and  its  occu 
pations,  or  shooting  fish  through  the  long  day  in  summer. 


Si-,        ^ 


SPEAKING    FISH    IN    WINTER 


THIS  is  a  common  mode  of  catching  fish. 

In  the  picture,  an  Indian  is  about  taking  a  fine  fish  from  off  his  spear;  the 
hatchet  with  which  he  broke  the  hole  in  the  ice  lies  beside  him. 

He  is  dressed  in  the  warm  dress  worn  by  the  Dacotas  in  the  winter,  his  head 
protected  from  the  cold  by  the  cornered  hood,  which  is  only  worn  by  the  men. 

After  the  hole  is  broken,  poles  are  fixed  over  it,  and  a  buffalo-robe  or  blanket 
covers  them,  making  a  kind  of  room  about  three  feet  in  height.  The  Indian 
thrusts  his  head  into  this  room,  the  blanket  falling  about  his  neck.  The  fish  come 
near  the  hole,  and  lie  perfectly  tranquil  to  inhale  the  air.  They  see  nothing,  if 
they  look  up,  for  the  blanket  shuts  out  the  light,  while  the  fisherman  plunges  his 
spear  unerringly,  and  draws  out  the  fish  upon  it. 

In  pleasant  weather,  this  is  an  agreeable  way  of  passing  the  time.  Frequently 
you  see  an  Indian  lying  full  length  on  the  ice,  his  head  under  the  blanket,  and 
around  him  a  number  of  fish  of  different  sizes  and  kinds ;  often,  for  a  time,  they 
have  nothing  else  to  live  upon. 

The  Indians  make  openings  in  the  ice  in  that  part  of  the  pond  near  the  springs. 
There  the  fish  congregate  in  the  winter  season,  and  there  the  ice  is  not  generally 
so  thick.  Bass,  pickerel,  pike,  perch,  and  catfish  are  caught  in  this  manner  in 
great  quantities. 

The  Indians  are  not  epicures — they  are  quite  willing  to  eat  their  fish  without 
sauce.  Their  way  of  cooking  them  is  simple.  Without  regard  to  size  or  kind  they 
are  thrown  into  a  kettle  of  water  and  boiled — scales,  head,  and  all.  The  finest 
trout  is  not  preferred  to  the  toughest  catfish ;  in  fact,  they  only  eat  fish  when 
obliged ;  any  other  kind  of  food  is  thought  better. 

The  Sioux  have  a  great  many  stories  and  superstitious  notions  about  fish.  They 
are  in  great  fear  of  Unk-ta-he,  the  great  fish,  or  god  of  the  waters.  If  he  but  rest 
his  terrible  glance  on  armed  warrior  or  gentle  maiden,  it  is  a  sure  presentiment  of 
evil.  He  has  horns  which  stand  out  from  the  water  as  he  raises  his  head,  and 
these  frighten  many  a  fanciful  old  woman  or  fearful  child.  His  freaks  are  terrible 


04  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

in  the  spring,  when  he  flounders  about  under  the  strong  ice,  and  it  cracks  and 
breaks  and  tumbles  down  the  stream.  If  any  accident  occur  at  this  time,  "  It  was 
Unk-ta-he." 

Sometimes  this  great  fish  has  a  contest  with  the  thunder-birds.  He  invites  the 
thunder-birds  to  battle  with  him;  he  raises  his  horns;  he  becomes  enraged  with  his 
enemies,  and  the  placid  waters  sway  wildly  at  his  anger.  He  calls  around  his 
allies,  and  they  fight  bravely  with  the  thunder-birds.  All  nature  is  engaged  in  the 
combat — the  forked  lightning  plays  in  the  distant  clouds,  the  thunder  rolls,  the 
forest  trees  wave  their  strong  branches,  and  the  waters  heave  and  toss  against  the 
river  shores.  Sometimes  Unk-ta-he  is  victorious,  sometimes  the  powerful  thunder- 
birds  conquer,  and  then  the  river-god  retires  to  a  safe  asylum  in  his  home  in  the 
waters. 

Nothing  alarms  a  Dacota  more  than  to  dream  of  a  cormorant,  a  bird  that  feeds 
on  fish.  The  dreamer  calls  together  his  friends,  and  they  celebrate  the  fish  dance, 
to  keep  off  the  threatened  evil.  This  dance  is  called  Ho-saw-kaw-u-tappe.  Women 
are  never  allowed  to  join  in  this  feast,  and  the  fish  must  be  eaten  raw.  Not  a 
morsel  of  it  must  be  left;  bones  and  all  are  eaten.  During  the  feast,  the  fish 
must  be  touched  by  the  mouth  alone. 

Indians  do  not  often  fish  for  pleasure.  Were  it  not  necessary  for  food,  the  lakes 
and  rivers  of  their  fair  country  would  be  undisturbed.  Their  modes  of  catching 
fish  are  very  simple.  They  leave  to  the  civilized  white  man  the  thousand 
inventions  for  torturing  and  killing  the  harmless  tenants  of  the  brook  and  of  the 
stream. 


I  '    '.•'     '  • 


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O        V 


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SPEARING    FISH    FROM    A    CANOE. 


GREAT  numbers  of  fish  are  taken  thus  in  the  spring  and  summer  by  the  Indians. 
It  is  a  pleasant,  lazy  way  of  killing  time,  and  procuring  food. 

The  warrior  does  not  condescend  to  paddle  his  own  canoe ;  he  has  no  idea  of 
putting  himself  to  so  much  trouble ;  so  his  son  or  his  wife  sits  at  one  end  of  the 
canoe,  managing  it,  while  the  man,  spear  in  hand,  stands  up  in  the  bow,  ready  to 
spear  the  first  fish  he  sees. 

The  fish  love  to  lie  under  the  large  leaves  and  grass  that  grow  out  of  the  water 
near  the  shore ;  so  the  wife  has  an  easy  task.  She  paddles  slowly  and  quietly 
along  the  edges  of  the  grass,  laying  her  infant,  fastened  to  its  cradle,  in  the  canoe. 
It  sleeps  sweetly  to  the  gentle  motion,  waking  and  looking  round  when  the  canoe 
stops,  and  closing  its  eyes  as  the  rocking  of  the  bark  on  the  waters  composes 
it  again  to  rest. 

Morning  and  evening  are  the  times  for  spearing  fish.  The  Indian  is  very  expert 
in  throwing  the  spear,  which  is  from  six  to  eight  feet  in  length.  It  is  made  of  wood, 
excepting  the  barbs,  which  are  either  iron  or  bone,  and  are  six  or  eight  inches  long. 

Sometimes  an  Indian  will  stand  upon  the  gunwale  of  a  bark  canoe,  which  is 
very  easily  upset,  throw  his  spear  six  or  eight  feet  ahead,  and  strike  a  fish,  without 
the  least  danger  of  upsetting. 

When  tired,  he  sits  and  smokes.  Silent  he  is,  if  he  will ;  but  if  his  mood  be 
sociable,  he  talks  away  of  his  own  or  others'  exploits.  Objects  in  the  scenery 
recall  incidents  in  tradition  or  history  on  which  he  loves  to  dwell ;  and  a  favorite 
tradition  is  that  of  the  Twin  Sisters,  which,  reader,  I  will  relate  to  you ! 

There  is  a  point  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  where  rises  a  mound-like  hill, 
some  eighty  or  ninety  feet  high ;  it  is  shaped  like  the  section  of  a  cone,  with  a  flat 
surface  fronting  the  river. 

As  the  traveler  ascends  the  Mississippi,  he  has  not  passed  this  mound  more  than 
fifty  or  sixty  miles,  when  he  meets  another  mound,  resembling  this  one  in  form, 
size,  and  location.  These  mounds  the  Indians  call  The  Twin  Sisters. 

So  remarkable  are  they  in  appearance,  and  especially  in  their  close  resemblance 
to  each  other,  that  it  is  impossible  to  pass  without  curiously  regarding  them. 
They  are  said  to  be  the  graves  of  two  sisters,  who  loved  each  other,  were  cruelly 
separated,  and  died. 

On  observing  the  first  mound,  the  mind  is  enchanted  with  the  fair  picture  con- 


66  EASTMAN'S     AMK1UCAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

veyed  to  the  eye.  A  beautiful  prairie  stretches  along  the  right  bank  of  the  river. 
A  range  of  lofty  bluffs  is  in  sight,  forming  the  boundary  of  two-thirds  of  the  prairie. 
All  around  these  bluffs  are  large,  spreading  trees. 

Never  had  the  sound  of  the  axe  disturbed  the  tranquillity  of  the  neighborhood ; 
never  had  the  impression  of  the  white  man's  foot  been  left  on  the  earth  given  by 
the  Great  Spirit  to  the  Indians.  Only  the  canoe  had  passed  in  the  shadow  of  the 
silent  hills,  only  the  Indian's  voice  had  been  echoed  there.  No  craft  of  white  man 
had  there  ascended,  toiling  with  the  current,  no  word  of  white  man  had  ever  been 
spoken,  where  this  mound  reared  its  commanding  form,  facing  the  waters  that 
dashed  by  it. 

On  this  prairie  (but  it  was  a  long  time  ago)  the  Indians  had  established  them 
selves  for  the  purpose  of  fishing.  They  were  Dacotas.  One  of  them  was  a  very  old 
chief,  who  had  two  daughters,  twins.  They  were  beautiful  girls,  and  so  much 
alike,  that  no  one  was  sure,  in  addressing  them,  of  not  calling  one  by  the  name  of 
the  other.  Even  their  old  father  was  constantly  puzzled  to  designate  them,  and 
the  tones  of  their  voices,  from  their  strong  resemblance,  assisted  in  making  it  more 
difficult  to  distinguish  them. 

These  sisters  loved  each  other  dearly ;  they  had  no  jealousies,  no  selfish  desires ; 
it  was  as  if  one  bright  spirit  illumed  and  animated  the  two  fair  forms  under  its 
continual  influence. 

They  could  not  live  under  the  slightest  separation ;  hand  in  hand  they  went  forth 
to  gather  the  sweet-smelling  prairie-grass,  or  to  bound  over  the  waters  in  their 
canoes,  and  when  employed  about  their  duties  in  the  wigwam,  they  were  ever  in 
reach  of  each  other's  voice. 

Thus  they  lived ;  and  one  fair  evening  they  told  their  father  they  were  going  to 
walk  in  the  shade  under  the  bluffs,  and  they  would  be  back  in  time  to  prepare  for 
him  the  fish  he  had  been  spearing. 

The  old  man  watched  them  as  they  went  forth,  their  little  moccasined  feet  rest 
ing  on  the  path,  that  was  strewed  with  dry  leaves,  in  perfect  time,  their  arms 
enfolding  each  other's  waists.  As  they  turned  from  him,  they  smiled  but  one 
smile;  it  was  the  same  smile  passing  over  two  faces.  The  same  loving  spirit 
looked  out  from  the  four  shining  eyes,  and  played  about  the  two  small  mouths, 
their  lips  crimson  as  the  cranberry,  when  it  lies  moistening  under  the  melting  snow, 
and  the  glow  about  their  cheeks  like  the  flush  that  encircles  the  large  forest  plum 
when  it  falls  ripe  from  the  burdened  bough. 

Not  far  from  the  bank  of  the  river,  the  sisters  were  seated  on  the  stump  of  an 
old  tree ;  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the  encampment,  and  had  sought  this  quiet 
place,  to  talk  over  their  love-affairs.  For  every  pretty  woman  must  have  a  love- 
experience  ;  and  though  these  two  sisters  had  made  a  vow  never  to  go  the  one 
from  the  other,  yet  they  were  very  busy  building  castles  in  the  air ;  they  were  to 
choose  husbands  who  were  to  be  comrades,  who  would  hunt  and  go  to  war  together, 


SPEARING    PISH    FHOM    A    CANOE.  67 

and  who  would  from  time  to  time  return  to  their  lodges  only  to  find  their  wives 
happier  and  more  loving. 

Thus  they  sat,  making  plans  for  the  future ;  when,  looking  towards  the  river, 
they  saw  rapidly  approaching  them  the  tall  form  of  a  Chippewa  brave,  one  of  their 
most  dreaded  enemies.  So  sudden  and  unexpected  was  his  appearance,  that  he 
seemed  to  rise  from  the  earth. 

For  one  moment  they  gazed  at  him  in  speechless,  motionless  terror,  and  then 
they  fled  like  birds  towards  their  home.  They  fled,  but  not  far ;  for  the  hand  of 
the  Chippewa  had  seized  the  nearest  one  to  him.  He  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  and 
bore  her  swiftly  to  the  bank.  There  his  canoe  was  waiting,  with  five  Chippewas 
to  paddle  it.  These  saw  that  the  object  of  the  young  chief  was  accomplished. 
They  waited  until  he  had  deposited  his  almost  lifeless  burden  in  the  canoe,  and 
their  paddles  but  touching  the  sparkling  water,  they  made  their  canoe  fly  from  the 
reach  of  the  vengeance  of  the  Dacotas.  When  all  danger  was  passed,  they  pursued 
their  way  more  leisurely,  until  they  reached  the  position  where  the  second  mound 
rears  its  imposing  front,  presenting  a  surface  of  the  richest  verdure. 

Here  they  rested,  while  the  Chippewa  left  nothing  undone  to  console  the  young 
girl.  He  told  her  that  he  loved  her,  and  that  if  she  would  consent  to  be  his  wife 
she  would  soon  see  her  sister  and  father  again,  even  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life. 
Only  his  affection  had  prompted  him  to  carry  her  away  from  her  people ;  for  he 
loved  her  the  instant  he  looked  upon  her,  as,  seated  by  her  sister,  they  watched  the 
waters  over  which  he  was  passing.  He  reminded  her  that  they  were  both  in 
his  power,  and  that  he  might  have  killed  them,  but  that  her  beauty  had  overcome 
his  hatred  to  her  nation.  But  the  girl  would  not  answer.  It  was  only  weeping, 
weeping ;  or,  if  her  lips  uttered  words,  it  was  to  entreat  the  Chippewa  to  pity  her, 
and  restore  her  to  her  home.  "  My  father — my  sister !"  was  the  only  answer  he 
could  obtain  in  return  for  all  his  protestations,  "take  me  to  them,  lest  I  die." 
Mortified  and  distressed,  the  Chippewa  determined  to  leave  her  to  herself.  He  had 
a  lodge  erected  for  her,  a  sort  of  bower  of  young  trees,  and  he  left  her  within, 
hoping  that  solitude  would  bring  with  it  not  only  resignation,  but  a  wish  for  com 
panionship.  He  stayed  within  sight  of  the  lodge,  and  kept  all  quiet  around  her. 
It  might  be  that  sleep  would  come  to  invigorate  her,  and  then  she  would  taste  the 
food  so  constantly  rejected,  though  his  own  hand  presented  it.  At  night  he  gently 
raised  the  skin  that  he  had  thrown  over  her  lodge,  hoping  to  find  her  awake,  and 
not  unhappy  at  the  prospect  of  his  society.  The  moonlight  streamed  in  the  lodge, 
and  he  saw  that  she  still  slept.  Her  face  looked  lovely  in  the  clear  light,  but  so 
calm,  so  pale,  that  he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  intruding  upon  the  repose  of 
a  spirit  as  of  disturbing  her. 

In  the  morning,  he  painted  his  face,  and  adorned  himself  to  the  best  advantage, 
trusting  to  his  good  looks  for  a  more  welcome  reception  than  she  had  yet  yielded 
him.  He  raised  the  entrance  to  the  bower  lodge,  and  looked  in.  She  lay  in  the 


68  EASTMAN'S    AMEKICAN    ABOHIGINAL    POUTFOLIO. 

same  attitude,  her  young  face  resting  on  her  arm,  her  hand  supporting  her  pale 
cheek.  No  reproaches,  no  anger,  no  tears.  Why  did  the  woman  he  loved  lie  so 
still  ?  and  his  own  heart  wildly  throbbing  at  her  sight. 

The  young  man  entered,  and  approached  her.  She  slept.  He  gently  touched 
her  hand ;  it  was  cold,  and  returned  to  its  old  position  when  he  released  it.  He 
placed  his  hand  upon  her  lips ;  they,  too,  were  cold,  the  hue  of  the  cranberry 
departed  for  ever.  The  young  Chippewa  sat  upon  the  robe  upon  which  she  lay. 
His  own  cheek  grew  pale  as  he  steadily  regarded  hers.  He  drew  back  aghast,  for 
there  was  no  pulse,  no  heart,  no  life  there,  for  him.  The  lover  knew  that  Chebiabo, 
the  powerful  keeper  of  the  souls  of  the  dead,  had  been  there  while  he  slept,  and 
had  borne  away  his  love  to  his  own  land. 

Then  he  bent  his  head  and  wept.  Tears,  large  scalding  tears,  fell  upon  her 
bosom.  As  he  shed  them,  he  felt  their  full  bitterness,  and  he  wondered  not  that 
so  many  tears  as  the  maid  had  wept,  should  have  worn  her  life  away. 

He  passed  his  hand  gently  over  her  face,  and  kissed  again  and  again  her  cold 
lips.  Ah  !  could  he  have  restored  to  them  their  -coral  hue,  he  would  have  borne 
her  on  his  bosom  back  to  her  sister's  side,  to  her  resting-place  on  the  old  tree  where 
he  had  first  seen  her.  He  would  have  bared  his  own  heart  to  the  arms  of  his  foes, 
could  he  have  brought  back  the  throbbings  of  life  to  hers. 

But  this  he  knew  was  beyond  his  power,  and  embracing  her  once  more,  he  folded 
her  slight  form  in  the  robe  upon  which  she  lay.  No  hand  touched  her  but  his. 
He  covered  her  from  the  sight  of  his  comrades  ere  he  called  them  to  assist  him  in 
burying  her.  After  this  was  done,  he  returned  to  his  home. 

Over  her  gradually  arose  the  mound  of  which  we  have  spoken.  No  mortal  hand 
was  engaged  in  its  construction — no  mortal  eye  saw  aught  concerning  it,  save 
that  it  still  ascended,  towering  above  the  waters  like  a  sentinel  appointed  by  some 
powerful  spirit  to  guard  the  form  of  the  maiden  who  slept  beneath. 

The  other  maiden  fled  towards  the  Dacota  encampment  when  her  sister  was  torn 
from  her  by  the  Chippewa.  The  Indians  were  amazed  to  see  her  flying  alone,  her 
arms  raised  in  entreaty,  her  voice  proclaiming  what  had  befallen  them,  and  im 
ploring  the  warriors  to  pursue  the  Chippewas,  and  recapture  her  sister. 

They  went  forth,  their  bravest  and  best,  but  failed  to  overtake  the  Chippewas. 
They  returned  to  relate  to  the  sorrowing  girl  their  failure.  She  heard  them  in 
silence.  No  food  had  passed  her  lips  since  separated  from  her  sister.  She  had 
wept  unceasingly.  Now  she  lay  down  on  the  robe  to  rest.  But  never  did  the 
voice  of  friend  arouse  her.  Her  spirit  passed  away  while  she  slept. 

They  wrapped  her  in  her  robe,  and  buried  her.  Over  her  mysteriously  arose  the 
mound  that  the  traveler  sees  first  on  ascending  the  Mississippi.  The  two  mounds 
mark  the  burial-places  of  the  twin  sisters,  who  lived,  and  loved,  and  died.  They 
are  monuments  to  sisterly  affection,  and  landmarks  to  the  wanderer  as  he  passes 
over  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi. 


Wto  Wararoara  idraaaaing  s  i 


INDIAN  WOMAN  DRESSING  A  BUFFALO-SKIN. 


WHILE  the  husband,  seated  outside  the  lodge,  is  enjoying  the  pleasant  summer 
weather,  the  wife  is  hard  at  work,  dressing  a  buffalo-skin. 

Part  of  the  labor  is  done,  but  she  has  still  not  a  little  to  perform. 

When  the  animal  is  killed  and  brought  in,  the  women  take  off  the  hair  of  the 
skin  with  a  knife,  after  which  they  moisten  the  skin,  and  stretch  it  to  upright 
poles,  as  in  the  picture,  or  on  the  ground,  by  means  of  pegs  driven  in  the  earth. 
When  there  are  white  people  near  to  whom  they  can  apply,  they  try  to  obtain  a 
little  soap  to  cleanse  the  skin ;  but,  if  dependent  on  themselves,  they  use,  in  the 
place  of  soap,  the  brains  of  the  animal.  These  they  spread  over  the  skin,  scraping 
it  with  an  iron  or  bone  scraper.  Thus  they  remove  all  the  fat  and  greasy  particles. 
Then  they  rub  the  skin  against  a  cord  that  is  stretched  to  a  couple  of  stakes,  until 
it  has  become  soft.  The  work  is  completed  when  the  skin  is  smoked. 

To  accomplish  this,  a  hole  is  dug,  and  a  small  fire  built  at  the  bottom.  Over 
the  hole  a  few  sticks  are  laid.  Across  these  they  place  the  skin.  The  hole  is 
covered  with  leaves  or  turf,  to  confine  the  smoke  as  much  as  possible,  and  to 
smother  the  flame. 

After  the  skin  is  smoked  from  ten  to  twenty  hours,  it  becomes  of  a  dingy,  yel 
lowish  color,  and  is  ready  for  use.  Mocassins,  leggins,  coats,  and  wigwams  are 
made  of  it. 

The  only  skins  used  for  these  purposes  are  those  of  the  buffalo,  elk,  deer,  and 
antelope.  Only  the  buffalo  is  ever  used  for  wigwams. 

The  buffalo  is  useful  to  the  Indians  for  food  and  clothing.  Some  of  the  North 
west  Indians  dispose  the  buffalo-robe,  almost  their  only  article  of  dress,  gracefully 
over  their  person,  like  a  Highland  plaid.  The  leggins  made  of  the  skin  are  some 
times  fringed  with  human  hair,  taken  from  the  scalps  of  their  enemies. 

The  Indians  find  great  pleasure  and  excitement  in  hunting  buffalo.  They  are 
often  exposed  to  the  greatest  danger,  and  they  relate  many  instances  of  the  power 
of  the  human  eye  in  quelling  the  fury  of  the  animal,  and  thus  saving  their  own 
lives.  When  several  herds  of  buffalo  congregate,  ten  thousand  is  probably  less 
than  their  number,  a  grand  and  animating  sight ! 

When  the  buffalo  is  fired  upon,  he  gives  chase  in  the  most  furious  manner;  the 


70  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

hunter  must  ride  away  at  a  full  gallop,  reloading  his  gun,  or  turning  again  to  dis 
charge  his  arrows.  The  head  of  the  animal,  with  its  shaggy  hair,  is  a  good  weight 
for  a  man  to  lift,  after  it  is  cut  from  the  body. 

The  Indians  find  horses  of  so  much  use  to  them  in  hunting  buffalo,  that  they 
steal  them  in  numbers  from  the  white  settlers.  When  the  Stone  Indians  name 
their  children,  they  make  a  feast,  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace,  and  pray  to  the  Master 
of  life  to  protect  the  child,  to  make  him  a  brave  hunter,  and  a  good  horse-stealcr. 

It  is  hard  work  to  tan  the  buffalo-skin,  but  the  Indian  woman  expects  to  per 
form  it.  She  is  a  most  affectionate  mother.  A  very  young  woman  is  often  seen, 
while  busy  at  her  labor,  apparently  unconscious  of  it,  so  occupied  is  she  observing 
her  baby  that  is  swinging  by  its  cradle,  fastened  to  the  bough  of  some  near 
tree.  No  doubt,  like  the  woman  to  whom  the  Prophet  made  offers,  hoping  to 
improve  her  condition,  the  Indian  woman  would  reply,  under  similar  circumstances, 
"  I  dwell  with  mine  own  people."  Her  children  are  all  her  wealth,  and  she  cannot 
do  too  much  for  them. 

Strangers  in  Indian  countries,  are  often  affected  by  the  grief  displayed  by  some 
poor  Indian  mother  at  the  loss  of  her  child.  She  places  food,  and  even  the  wooden 
doll,  by  the  little  corpse,  to  sustain  and  amuse  its  spirit  on  its  lonely  journey. 

A  young  mother  was  known  to  commit  suicide,  believing  her  soul  would  join 
her  child's,  and  protect  it  in  the  other  world.  A  mother,  standing  by  the  corpse  of 
her  child,  was  heard  to  exclaim,  "  Ah  !  my  child,  why  did  you  leave  me  ?  why  go 
out  of  my  sight  so  early?  Who  will  nurse  you  and  feed  you,  on  your  long 
journey  ?" 

The  kindness  and  hospitality  of  Indian  women  towards  strangers,  who  are  on 
friendly  terms  with  them,  are  well  known.  Instances  of  wonderful  affection  have 
been  noticed  in  them  towards  helpless  members  of  their  family.  A  young  daughter 
wrapped  her  sick  father  in  his  buffalo-robe,  placed  him  in  a  sledge,  and  drove 
him,  without  assistance,  a  long  way  to  the  English  colony,  to  entreat  means  to 
sustain  the  life  that  was  failing  for  want  of  food. 

Sometimes  the  aged  are  abandoned  on  account  of  their  uselessness.  "  A  little 
meat,  an  axe,  are  left  them  by  their  nearest  relations,  who,  in  taking  leave  of  them, 
say,  '  It  is  time  for  them  to  go  to  the  world  of  spirits,'  which  they  suppose  lies  just 
beyond  where  the  sun  goes  down,  where  they  will  be  better  taken  care  of  than  with 
them,  and  then  they  walk  away,  weeping."  This  seems  peculiarly  hard  in  the  case 
of  the  Indian  mother,  to  be  thus  forsaken  by  those  for  whom  she  has  so  faithfully 
toiled.  Such  instances  are  isolated,  yet  they  do  occur. 

"  On  the  banks  of  the  Saskashawan,  an  aged  woman  prevailed  on  her  son  to 
shoot  her  through  the  head,  instead  of  adopting  this  last  extremity.  She  addressed 
him  in  a  most  pathetic  manner,  reminding  him  of  the  care  and  toil  with  which  she 
bore  him  on  her  back  from  camp  to  camp  in  infancy ;  with  what  incessant  labor 


INDIAN    WOMAN    D  II  E  S  S  I  N  G    A    BUFFALO-SKIN.  71 

she  brought  him  up,  until  he  could  use  his  bow  and  arrow ;  now,  having  seen  him 
a  great  warrior,  she  requested  that  he  would  show  her  kindness,  and  give  a  proof 
of  his  courage  in  shooting  her,  that  she  might  go  home  to  her  relations.  '  I  have 
seen  many  winters,'  she  added,  '  and  am  now  become  a  burden  in  not  being  able  to 
assist  in  getting  provisions ;  dragging  me  through  the  country,  as  I  am  unable  to 
walk,  is  a  toil,  and  brings  much  distress.'  She  then  drew  her  blanket  over  her 

• 

head,  and  her  son  immediately  deprived  her  of  life,  in  the  apparent  consciousness 
of  having  done  an  act  of  filial  duty  and  of  mercy." 

It  is  common  to  hear  a  Sioux  woman  exclaim,  "  Oh  !  that  I  were  dead,  that  I 
might  see  no  more  trouble ;"  and  one  of  their  ideas  of  heaven  was  thus  quaintly 
expressed  by  an  old  person,  "  There  will  be  less  paddling  to  do." 

It  is  lamentable,  the  appearance  of  old  women,  among  Indians.  They  are  so 
wrinkled  and  ugly,  so  complaining  and  so  forlorn,  that  it  is  no  wonder  they  sigh 
for  another  world,  such  unattractive  figures  do  they  cut  in  this.  While  they  are 
able  to  work  they  are  contented,  enjoying  the  summer  encampment  and  the  winter 
home. 

The  Indian  woman  delights  in  the  legends  that  she  relates  to  her  children,  bearing 
them  in  mind,  too,  while  she  works.  While  scraping  her  buffalo-skin,  she  looks  at 
the  river,  bright  and  flowing  now,  but  in  the  cold  season  hard  and  cheerless.  A 
like  thought  would  recall  to  her  mind  some  such  tradition,  which  my  reader  will 
admire.  It  is  a  Chippewa  allegory,  from  a  writer  who  heard  it  while  among  them. 

"  A  man  from  the  North,  gray-haired,  and  leaning  on  his  staff,  went  roving  over 
all  countries  and  climes.  Looking  round,  one  day,  after  having  traveled  without 
intermission  for  four  moons,  he  sought  a  spot  on  which  to  recline  and  rest  himself. 

"  He  had  not  been  long  seated  when  he  saw  before  him  a  young  man,  very  beauti 
ful,  with  rosy  cheeks,  sparkling  eyes,  and  his  head  crowned  with  flowers ;  and  from 
between  his  lips  he  drew  a  breath  that  was  sweet  as  the  wild  mountain-flower. 

"  Said  the  old  man  to  him,  as  he  leaned  upon  his  staff,  his  beard  reaching  low  upon 
his  breast,  '  Let  us  repose  here  awhile,  and  talk  a  little.  But  first  we  will  make  a 
fire,  and  we  will  bring  together  much  wood,  for  it  will  be  needed  to  keep  us  warm.' 

"  The  fire  was  made,  and  each  took  a  seat  beside  it,  each  telling  the  other  from 
whence  he  came,  and  what  had  befallen  him  in  the  way.  Presently  the  young 
man  felt  cold ;  he  looked  around  to  see  what  had  produced  the  change,  and  pressed 
his  hands  against  his  cheeks,  to  keep  them  warm. 

"  At  this  moment,  the  old  man  spoke,  and  said,  '  When  I  wish  to  cross  a  river,  I 
blow  upon  it,  and  make  it  hard,  and  walk  over  its  surface.  I  have  only  to  speak, 
and  bid  the  waters  be  still,  and  touch  them  with  my  finger,  and  they  are  hard,  like 
stone.  The  tread  of  my  foot  makes  soft  things  hard.  My  power  is  boundless.' 

"  The  young  man,  feeling  still  colder,  and  growing  tired  of  the  old  man's  boasting, 
and  morning  being  nigh,  said,  '  Now,  my  brother,  I  wish  to  speak.' 


72  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

"  '  Speak,'  said  the  old  man  ;  '  my  ear  is  old,  but  I  can  hear.' 

" '  I  go,'  said  the  young  man,  '  all  over  the  earth  too ;  I  have  seen  it  covered 
with  snow,  and  the  waters  I  have  seen  hard.  I  have  only  passed  over  them,  and 
the  snow  has  melted,  the  mountain  rivulets  have  commenced  to  run,  the  rivers  to 
move,  and  the  ice  to  melt.  The  earth  has  become  green  under  my  tread,  the 
flowers  blossomed,  and  the  birds  sang,  and  all  your  power  vanished.' 

"  The  old  man  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and,  shaking  his  head,  said,  '  I  know  thee ; 
thou  art  Spring.' 

"  '  I  am,'  said  the  young  man.  '  Come  near  me,  and  behold  my  head  and  my 
cheeks.  Touch  me ;  for  Hum  art  Winter !  Thy  power  is  great,  but  thou  durst  not 
come  to  my  country.  Thy  beard  would  fall  off,  thy  strength  would  fail,  and  thou 
wouldst  die.' 

"  The  old  man  knew  his  words  were  true ;  and,  before  the  morning  was  come,  he 
vanished  away." 

Pity  the  Indian  woman,  as  she  labors,  tanning  the  deer-skin,  but  deem  not  that 
no  pleasant  thought  comes  upon  her  to  beguile  the  time  of  her  work.  Her  memory 
is  a  great  storehouse,  and  from  it  she  draws  as  she  has  need. 


-. 


o 

r1-  ffl 


or1. 


CO 


INDIAN    MODE    OF    TRAVELING. 


THE  Indians  in  the  foreground  of  the  picture  are  in  search  of  a  new  home.  The 
husband,  with  his  implements  of  war  and  hunting,  is  comfortably  mounted,  enjoy 
ing  the  fair  scenery  that  is  glowing  around  him. 

Next  comes  the  furnittire-wagon  of  the  family.  Its  construction  is  very  simple. 
Two  poles,  about  fifteen  feet  in  length,  are,  by  means  of  a  strap,  supported  on  the 
horse's  neck ;  the  other  two  ends  rest  on  the  ground.  The  parts  of  the  poles  in 
rear  of  the  train  have  saplings  fastened  to  them  to  keep  them  apart ;  on  these  the 
baggage  is  placed,  secured  by  thongs  of  raw  hide. 

Two  of  the  children  are  having  a  pleasant  time,  jogging  along  at  a  moderate 
rate,  while  the  wife  and  mother  walks  behind  with  her  burden.  She  is  watching 
her  baby ;  its  cradle  is  hung,  with  the  family  kettle,  to  what  we  called  the  furni 
ture-wagon.  If  at  any  time  it  should  be  suggested  that  the  horse  has  more  than 
he  can  comfortably  bear,  the  woman  is  ready  to  relieve  him  of  the  extra  weight. 
Sometimes  dogs  are  harnessed  in,  and  made  to  carry  baggage  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  horse. 

The  Indians  want  a  country,  and  they  want  one  over  which  they  can  travel 
without  interference.  Yet  this  does  not  justify  the  remark  that  has  been  made, 
that  the  Indians  care  not  for  country  or  home. 

"  We  were  born,"  said  a  Chippewa  chief,  "  on  this  ground.  Our  fathers  lie  buried 
in  it.  Shall  we  say  to  the  bones  of  our  fathers,  '  Arise !  and  come  with  us  into  a 
strange  land !' " 

The  Indian  says  that  the  Great  Spirit  has  directed  two  ways  of  living  for  the 
white  and  the  red  man,  and  that  is  why  he  has  placed  the  red  man  where  he  can 
subsist  by  hunting,  where  he  can  remove  his  lodge,  and  follow  the  bear  and  buffalo 
by  their  tracks,  and  where,  but  for  the  aggressive  spirit  of  the  white  man,  they 
could  live  happily  for  ever. 

Nor  are  they  unthankful  for  the  blessings  bestowed  upon  them  by  the  gods  they 
worship.  When  they  travel,  and  are  resting,  the  pipe  is  lit ;  but,  ere  they  presume 

to  smoke,  the  stem  is  pointed  to  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  the  pipe  offered  to 

10 


74  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL     PORTFOLIO. 

the  spirits  that  protect  them.  They  believe  it  was  a  divine  intention  that  they 
should  be  wanderers. 

Some  of  the  tribes  say  that  their  ancestors  lived  until  their  feet  were  worn  out 
with  walking ;  and  they  insist  it  will  ill  become  them  to  turn  from  the  good  old 
ways,  and  lead  the  settled,  useful  life  ordained  for  the  white  man. 

In  their  traveling,  they  have  certain  signs,  by  which  they  can  be  followed,  if 
they  wish  it.  Some  gentlemen  were  journeying  in  the  Northwest,  and  found  a 
wigwam,  in  which  every  member  of  the  family  was  clad  in  deer-skin,  on  a  hunting 
excursion.  Two  of  the  sons  were  absent  in  pursuit  of  a  deer ;  but  the  rest  pursued 
their  way,  leaving  signs  for  the  sons  to  follow  on  their  return.  These  signs  were 
drawn  with  an  axe  upon  a  broad  piece  of  wood,  and  the  sons  followed  in  a  short 
time,  having  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  their  track. 

A  stranger  passing  over  the  beautiful  country  of  the  Northwest,  where  vale  and 
stream  and  bluff  and  forest  unite  to  make  a  glorious  picture,  will  be  ready  to 
exclaim,  "  Men  may  leave  their  works  unfinished ;  but  thou  art  a  God !  thy  nature 
is  perfection !" 

Such,  Christian  reader,  is  our  God.  Is  it  not  sad  to  think  how  many  of  his 
creatures  travel  again  and  again  over  their  beautiful  home,  ignorant  of  the  God 
who  made  them  ? 

And  as  their  ancestors  journeyed  through  their  long  lives — as  it  is  still  the  choice 
of  the  red  man  to  go  and  come  at  his  own  will — so  his  faith  teaches  him  that  he 
will  roam,  delighted  and  free  from  fear  of  intrusion,  in  the  far-off  spirit-land. 

The  path  to  this  happy  country  he  must  travel  adorned  as  a  warrior  when  he  is 
celebrating  the  most  glorious  of  his  feasts.  It  will  be  a  fair  region  through  which 
he  must  pass.  His  senses  will  be  charmed  by  the  music  of  the  forest-birds  that 
wait  on  Chah-o-tee-dah,  as  they  nestle  in  the  branches  of  the  tall  trees.  No 
woman's  hand  polluted  the  road  through  which  he  must  pass  as  he  journeys  to 
this  land  of  souls.  The  warriors  who  made  it  sang  while  receiving  the  death-blow 
from  their  enemies. 

Yet  he  must  travel  with  his  bow  and  arrow,  lest  the  Master  of  Life  should  not 
bid  him  welcome,  when,  tired  with  his  journey,  he  waits  to  enter  the  city  of  spirits. 

When  admitted  to  its  borders,  he  joins  at  once  in  the  celebration  of  the  feasts  his 
nation  keeps,  in  honor  of  the  gods,  whom  they  worshipped  when  on  the  earth. 


p 

f- 
t-         O 


t- 


INDIAN    SUGAR    CAMP. 


MARCH  brings  harsh  winds  and  red  eyes  to  the  Indians  of  the  Northwest,  but  in 
its  train  comes  also  the  pleasant  time  of  making  sugar.  Although  it  is  a  laborious 
season  to  the  Indian  woman,  yet  it  is  a  change  from  the  dull  employments  of  the 
winter  that  is  past.  The  skies,  changeable  as  they  are,  promise  better  things  than 
driving  flakes  of  snow;  and  the  springing  up  of  the  first  blue  flowers  of  the  spring 
is  a  surety  of  the  summer-time,  when  the  now  desolate-looking  prairie  will  be 
covered  with  flowers  of  every  shape  and  hue.  It  may  be,  too,  that  food  has  been 
scarce,  and  the  wan  faces  of  the  children  light  up  at  the  preparations  for  the  sugar 
feast. 

The  time  has  come,  and  the  plate  represents  the  women  hard  at  work.  Cutting 
wood,  collecting  the  sap,  boiling  and  straining  it,  keeps  them  pretty  busy,  while  the 
men  smoke,  and  lounge,  and  talk  politics.  The  leaves  of  the  maple  are  just  start 
ing  into  life,  while  it  may  be  the  snow  has  not  melted  from  the  distant  hill-top. 

They  all  love  sugar,  men,  women,  and  children ;  and  the  present  is  a  gala  time 
with  them.  The  children  will  look  as  plump  again  by  the  time  the  generous  sap 
ceases  to  run. 

For  some  weeks  previous  they  have  been  making  vessels  of  birch  bark,  in  which 
to  collect  the  sap.  They  strain  it  through  their  blankets,  or  anything  that  is  con 
venient,  not  being  particularly  neat  in  their  operations.  When  the  sugar  is  made, 
it  is  put  up  in  small  birch  bark  baskets  :  the  Chippewas  call  these  Mococks.  The 
sugar  has  a  dark  look,  but  a  very  pleasant  flavor,  provided  they  have  not  boiled  it 
in  the  same  kettle  in  which  they  cook  their  fish,  which  is  too  often  the  case. 

As  the  time  for  making  sugar  approaches,  preparations  are  made  to  go  into  camp. 
The  Indians  select  some  spot  where  there  is  a  large  grove  of  maple  trees,  and  there 
they  pitch  their  tents.  They  take  a  little  corn  with  them  to  the  woods,  and  the 
men  hunt  venison  or  wild  fowls.  The  children  enjoy  themselves,  and  are  allowed 
to  assist.  The  sap  continues  to  run  about  four  weeks.  The  half-breeds  and  Cana 
dian  French  make  a  great  deal  of  sugar  in  the  Northwest.  They  take  more  pains, 
and  are  neater  in  its  manufacture.  Their  sugar  is  very  nice,  and  of  a  much  lighter 
color.  These  enjoy  the  sugar-making  season  as  much  as  the  Indians. 


76  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

While  the  warriors  are  off  on  a  hunt,  and  the  women  are  occupied  with  the 
sugar-making,  the  young  people  are  often  managing  their  own  affairs.  Now  a 
young  wife  runs  away  from  her  tyrannical  husband,  or  a  daughter  relieved  from 
her  grandmother's  constant  surveillance,  goes  to  the  next  sugar-camp,  and  marries 
the  man  of  her  choice.  She  will  stay  there  until  the  affair  has  blown  over. 

When  a  large  quantity  of  sugar  has  been  made,  it  is  usual  to  celebrate  a  sugar- 
feast,  which  is  one  of  their  ceremonies.  The  medicine-men  appoint  a  time,  and  all 
must  come.  With  due  solemnity,  the  priest  gives  to  each  his  portion,  and  it  is 
eaten.  It  is  a  good  business  for  the  doctors,  and  it  is  to  their  advantage  to  give 
them  too  much,  for  after  a  feast  the  doctor  prepares  himself  to  be  called  upon.  His 
medicine-bag  and  sacred  rattle  are  by  his  side ;  he  is  soon  sent  for  by  some  anxious 
relative,  fee  in  hand ;  and  he  goes  to  perform  his  mysterious  incantations.  In  such 
cases,  their  mode  of  practice  is  successful,  for  as  there  is  nothing  the  matter  but 
that  a  devout  Dacota  has  eaten  too  much  sugar,  nature  is  restoring  him,  while  the 
priest,  with  awful  noises  and  frightful  grimaces,  pretends  to  remove  some  other 
cause,  which  only  could  be  done  by  his  skill. 

There  is  an  ancient  custom  of  the  Dacotas  which  is  generally  celebrated  at  this 
time.  It  is  called  the  Virgin's  Feast.  To  this  all  have  admittance,  for  it  is  designed 
to  put  to  the  test  the  purity  of  their  young  maidens. 

In  preparing  for  it,  the  girls  put  on  their  richest  and  most  becoming  apparel ; 
plaiting  in  fine  braids  their  oiled  hair,  and  painting  their  cheeks.  Nothing  can 
shield  a  woman  who  is  guilty — neither  beauty,  nor  rank,  nor  riches ;  for  all  these 
the  Indians  have,  according  to  their  own  ideas. 

Any  of  the  spectators  can  come  forward,  and  accuse  one  of  the  party.  The 
Indians  seat  themselves,  forming  a  ring,  while  the  feast  is  prepared,  of  which  the 
maidens  are  to  partake.  Maple  sugar  is  one  of  the  principal  dainties. 

If  any  maiden  have  ventured  unworthily  to  approach  the  feast,  and  there  be  a 
spectator  who  is  acquainted  with  her  secret,  he  is  privileged  to  lead  her  from  the 
feast,  and  she  is,  in  consequence,  exposed  to  the  scorn  and  laughter  of  all  present. 

This  feast  does  not,  however,  accomplish  its  object.  If  the  guilty  can  succeed  in 
hiding  their  sin,  the  innocent  are  often  most  unjustly  condemned.  A  very  short 
time  since,  the  feast  was  celebrated  at  an  Indian  village,  near  which  we  were 
living.  The  young  sister  of  the  chief  had  refused  to  marry  one  of  the  war 
riors  of  her  brother's  band.  With  a  light  heart,  nothing  fearing,  she  arrayed 
herself  for  the  ceremony.  Her  ankles  and  arms  were  burdened  with  the  trinkets 
in  use  among  them.  On  her  bosom  hung  a  heavy  necklace  of  wampum  and  other 
beads — her  cloth  dress  she  had  gaily  embroidered.  Conscious  only  of  virtue,  she 
hastened  forward  with  her  companions. 

When  about  to  seat  herself  by  them,  the  warrior,  whose  hand  she  had  refused, 
haughtily  stepped  towards  her,  and  seizing  the  hand  he  had  coveted,  led  her  away 


INDIAN    SUGAR    CAMP.  77 

from  the  feast.  She  followed  like  one  bewildered,  and  the  incident  occasioned  great 
surprise.  Her  family  could  not  interfere,  and  the  feast  proceeded.  In  the  evening, 
however,  she  could  not  be  found,  and  her  relations  sought  her  anxiously.  They 
found  her  dead,  in  the  woods.  She  had  hung  herself  by  the  head-strap  in  use 
among  them.  Their  lamentations  aroused  the  band,  and  they  assembled  in  haste 
to  the  scene  of  the  catastrophe.  But  in  vain ;  her  young  and  innocent  heart  had 
long  ceased  to  beat,  and  all  that  remained  was  to  bury  her  according  to  the  customs 
of  her  fathers,  shedding  useless  tears. 


EMIGRANTS  ATTACKED  BY  THE  CAMANCHES. 


THE  Camanche  tribe  of  Indians  wander  over  the  northern  part  of  Texas,  going 
occasionally  to  the  south,  to  capture  wild  horses,  or  to  commit  some  such  depreda 
tion.  These  Indians  save  themselves  the  trouble  of  hunting  horses  thus :  they 
keep  a  watch  on  the  Mexicans,  and  when  the  latter  have  taken  a  large  number, 
the  Camanches  attack  them,  deprive  them  of  their  property,  and  frequently  of 
their  lives. 

The  Camanches  belong  to  the  Shoshonee  group  of  Indians,  and  carne  from  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  They  are  an  exceedingly  fierce  people.  The  Mexicans  are  in 
great  fear  of  them,  and  not  without  cause ;  for  they  surprise  them  in  small  parties, 
kill  the  men,  taking  their  women  and  children  home  with  them.  If  there  are  boys 
in  the  party,  they  teach  them  their  customs,  so  that  the  Mexican  boy  grows  up  to 
be  a  Camanche  warrior. 

The  women  become  their  wives  and  servants.  Many  Mexicans  are  now  in 
bondage  to  the  Camanches.  The  United  States  government  has  recaptured  some, 
but  a. number  are  still  there. 

The  Camanches  have  no  permanent  villages,  but  wander  about  throughout  the 
year.  They  live  a  life  of  constant  warfare  and  excitement.  They  are  splendid 
horsemen,  riding  in  any  attitude  with  the  utmost  skill.  Their  women  are  equally 
expert,  flying  across  the  prairies,  competent  to  control  the  fleetest  and  most  fiery 
animal. 

The  picture  represents  an  encampment  of  emigrants  on  the  broad  prairie.  Rest 
ing  for  the  night,  they  were  not  unprepared  for  what  has  befallen  them.  They 
arranged  their  wagons  in  a  circle,  attaching  many  of  them  together  by  the 
wheels,  forming  thus  a  fort,  which,  if  properly  defended,  is  impregnable  in  Indian 
warfare. 

The  emigrants,  in  seeking  a  new  home,  were  well  provided  with  Colt's  repeaters. 
They  can  rise  and  fire,  and  then  protect  themselves  from  a  return  by  properly 
arranging  their  wagons.  The  horses  of  the  party  are  placed  in  the  centre,  where 
they  can  neither  be  stolen  nor  run  away. 


EMIGRANTS    ATTACKED    BY    THE    CAMANCHES.  79 

A  little  fighting  will  insure  the  hardy  adventurers  a  good  appetite  for  their 
supper,  and  enhance  the  enjoyment  of  their  journey  by  giving  it  the  spice  of 
variety. 

The  Camanches  almost  exclusively  use  the  bow,  arrow,  and  lance.  They  are 
rarely  seen  with  any  other  weapon.  In  the  picture,  they  charge  furiously  against 
the  emigrants.  The  Indian  in  the  foreground,  lying  on  the  horse,  is  completely 
shielded  from  the  fire  of  his  opponents.  He  is  lying  almost  on  the  side  of  the 
animal,  and  firing  over  his  neck. 

The  Camanche  warrior  lives  on  horseback,  and  performs  constantly  what  to 
others  would  appear  remarkable  exploits,  but  to  him  nothing  more  than  could  be 
done  by  any  boy  in  the  nation. 

An  officer  stationed  among  the  Camanches  told  me  that  he  employed  as  a  servant 
a  Mexican  boy,  who  had  been  recaptured  from  Camanche  servitude  by  the  United 
States  troops.  The  boy  gave  an  interesting  and  minute  account  of  his  previous 
life. 

A  few  years  before,  a  party  of  Camanches  surprised  the  Mexican  village  in  which 
he  lived,  and  carried  many  of  the  people  away.  His  father  attempted  to  defend 
his  family,  fired,  and  killed  a  Camanche,  and  then  rode  off.  Some  of  the  Indians 
pursued  him,  and  soon  returned,  bringing  with  them  the  horse.  His  father  they 
had,  without  doubt,  killed. 

The  Camanches  carried  off,  among  the  number,  five  young  Mexican  girls.  These 
the  Indians  took  as  wives.  This  aroused,  even  to  frenzy,  the  jealousy  of  the  Indian 
women.  In  a  year,  they  had  killed  three  of  the  Mexican  women,  mutilating  their 
bodies  horribly.  This  their  Camanche  husbands  did  not  resent,  thinking  it  a  very 
natural  and  proper  way  of  avenging  themselves,  on  the  part  of  the  Indian  women. 

The  females  in  the  Camanche  tribe  are  said  to  be  peculiarly  ferocious,  delighting 
in  tormenting  their  prisoners.  When  a  prisoner  is  appointed  to  die,  he  is  tied 
down  during  the  day,  and  made  to  lie  perfectly  still.  At  evening,  he  is  forced  to 
rise  and  dance,  while  the  Indians  shout,  and  laugh,  and  sing,  and  the  women,  with 
cruel  thongs,  give  blow  after  blow  to  the  unhappy  prisoner.  Oh,  Nature !  that 
woman  should  make  such  record  of  her  sex !  It  would  ever  be  thus,  had  not  the 
God  of  nature  conveyed  to  the  hearts  of  others,  more  highly  favored,  rays  of  His 
divine  light  and  love. 

The  Camanches  realize  all  a  child's  ideas  of  Indians.  Murder  and  blood,  ruthless, 
vindictive  warfare,  savage  ignorance,  and  bodily  strength.  They  are  free  as  the  air 
that  plays  over  the  hills  and  vales  of  Texas ;  apparently  as  unconquerable  as  the 
summit  of  their  native  mountains  is  out  of  the  reach  of  cultivation.  That  must 
bend  its  brow  to  the  lowest  earth  over  which  it  has  ever  towered,  ere  the  Camanches 
will  change  their  ways.  Yet  will  the  clouds  long  descend  and  ascend  upon  the 
one,  after  the  other  shall  be  extinct. 


80  EASTMAN'S    AMERICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

Rapidly  are  our  Indian  tribes  thinning  in  population  and  vanishing  away.  The 
causes  are  evident,  yet  the  red  man  will  not  stay  to  consider. 

He  may  not  stay ;  he  must  drink  his  enemies'  blood,  though  a  fearful  vengeance 
await  him  in  the  shadow  of  his  lodge.  He  must  roam  over  the  prairies,  suffering 
privations,  discomforts,  and  death.  He  must  live  as  did  his  fathers,  and,  like  them, 
die,  and  be  forgotten. 


INDIANS    IN    COUNCIL. 


AMONG  our  northern  tribes  the  great  council-fire  was  always  to  be  found  burning 
in  the  lodge  of  the  principal  chief.  Around  it  could  be  assembled  in  every  emer 
gency  their  wisest  men,  to  decide  upon  affairs  concerning  the  good  of  their  nation, 
whether  regarding  their  relations  with  other  nations,  or  difficulties  among  them 
selves. 

At  the  present  day  the  Indians  still  meet  in  council,  though  with  less  parade  than 
formerly.  They  could  once  dictate  to  us  ;  now  we  propose,  and  they  must  submit. 
Yet,  still  as  of  old,  they  meet  to  deliberate,  not  within  walls,  and  with  secret  pur 
pose,  but  in  the  open  air,  under  the  shadow  of  their  ancient  trees,  where  their 
young  men  may  be  attracted  by  the  sound  of  the  eloquent  language  of  the  orator, 
and  where,  such  is  the  decorum  always  observed,  they  must  listen  quietly,  if  not  to 
approve. 

The  picture  represents  such  a  scene.  The  orator,  with  his  gorgeous  head  orna 
ment  of  eagle's  feathers,  and  his  robe  gathered  loosely  about  him,  is  not  afraid  of 
interruption  while  he  is  delivering  to  them  his  sentiments ;  nor  are  they  hastily 
uttered,  for  he  has  doubtless  consulted  the  public  will,  as  well  as  the  best  interests 
of  the  band,  ere  he  assumed  the  prerogative  of  being  their  adviser.  He  has  talked 
with  the  people,  and  with  their  leaders,  and  he  stands  armed  with  the  authority  of 
their  opinions  and  wishes,  as  with  energetic  gestures  and  forcible  language  he 
delivers  his  own.  For  we  must  remember  the  Indians  are  genuine  democrats,  and 
would  one  of  them  be  a  leader,  he  must  be  guided  by  the  people. 

Yet  a  great  mind  must  always  control,  in  a  measure,  the  hearts  and  voices  of  its 
inferiors  ;  and  we  have  many  instances  on  record,  where  some  Indian  has  recklessly 
disregarded  all  the  opinions  of  his  people,  and  has,  by  a  gigantic  effort  of  his 
will,  swayed  the  hearts  around  him,  turning  them  to  his  own  views  as  easily  as  a 
powerful  wind  drives  back  the  waters  that  were  gently  flowing  towards  some 
desired  port. 

At  a  treaty  held  in  1828,  one  of  the  assembled  chiefs  refused  to  sign,  as  they 
had  all  agreed  to,  certain  conditions  imposed  upon  them  by  our  commissioners. 
Wabunsee's  words  on  this  occasion  are  worth  remembering.  "  An  Indian,"  said 

11 


82  EASTMAN'S    AMEKICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

he,  "  who  will  lie,  is  not  worthy  to  be  called  a  brave.  He  is  not  fit  to  live.  If  he 
refuses  to  sanction  what  we  agreed  to  in  council,  I  will  cut  his  heart  out." 

Recently,  a  council  was  held  in  the  Sioux  country,  with  the  Sioux  and  Winne- 
bagoes.  One  of  our  officers  went  to  the  council,  accompanied  by  some  friendly 
Indians,  who  promised  to  speak  in  favor  of  the  wishes  entertained  by  the  United 
States  Commissioners.  They  did  not  do  so,  but  sat,  haughty  and  silent  listeners  to 
the  speeches  on  either  side.  After  the  council,  they  told  the  officer  the  cause  of  this 
strange  behavior.  Behind  each  of  them  was  stationed  a  Sioux,  armed  with  a 
pistol.  On  reaching  the  council-scene,  the  friendly  Sioux  were  told  by  Wabashaw, 
one  of  their  chiefs,  that  if  they  uttered  one  word  favorable  to  the  United  States,  the 
Indians  behind  them  would  shoot  them  down  as  if  they  were  dogs. 

The  father  of  this  chief,  also  called  Wabashaw,  was  truly  a  great  man.  In 
1812,  a  village  of  French  people  was  quite  unprotected,  surrounded  by  contending 
parties,  and  in  the  midst  of  different  tribes  of  Indians.  The  Winnebagoes  took 
their  property,  and  threatened  their  lives.  In  despair,  the  frightened  villagers  ap 
pealed  to  Wabashaw,  who  was  a  Sioux,  and  the  Sioux  were  then  friendly  with  the 
Winnebagoes.  They  asked  his  protection,  knowing  his  influence  with  his  own  and 
the  neighboring  tribes  of  Indians.  He  went  to  the  French  village,  attended  only 
by  one  person.  They  earnestly  besought  his  favor  and  protection,  but  he  gave 
them  no  reply.  He  sent  his  attendant  to  the  Winnebagoes,  demanding  a  council, 
and  appointing  the  time  and  place.  He  remained  alone  at  the  village,  but  held  no 
conversation  with  the  excited  and  distressed  inhabitants.  The  chiefs  of  the  Win 
nebagoes  assembled,  and  formed  a  circle  of  their  most  powerful  men.  Wabashaw 
took  his  seat,  the  only  Sioux  in  council.  There  was  a  solemn  form  attending  the 
scene;  they  waited  until  Wabashaw  chose  to  inform  them  the  cause  of  their 
convening. 

"  He  arose  and  looked  upon  the  chiefs  with  a  menacing  look.  His  countenance 
was  fierce  and  terrible  ;  and  cold  and  stern  were  the  faces  upon  which  his  piercing 
eye  was  bent.  He  plucked  a  single  hair  from  his  head,  held  it  up  before  them,  and 
then  spoke  in  a  grave  and  resolute  tone,  '  Winnebagoes,  do  you  see  this  hair  ?  look 
at  it.  You  threaten  to  massacre  the  white  people  at  the  prairie.  They  are  your 
friends  and  mine.  You  wish  to  drink  their  blood.  Is  that  your  purpose  ?  Dare 
to  lay  a  finger  upon  one  of  them,  and  I  will  blow  you  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  as 
I  now,'  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  '  blow  this  hair  with  my  breath  where  none 
can  find  it.'  Not  a  word  was  uttered,  not  a  look  expressed  an  intention  of  differing 
from  him,  and  Wabashaw,  with  a  look  of  proud  defiance,  left  the  council,  and 
returned  home  with  his  comrade,  while  the  timid  French  villagers  were  undis 
turbed." 

War  is  the  purpose  for  which  the  Indian  lives.  The  war-drum  is  almost  always 
in  use,  and  for  war  the  Indian  council  is  often  convened.  In  the  present  day 


INDIANS    IN    COUNCIL.  83 

their  wars  are  between  each  other,  and  the  council  rarely  decides  for  peace. 
Yet  it  is  a  necessary  form  for  the  old  to  deliberate,  ere  the  young  are  authorized 
to  go  forth  to  shed  blood.  The  pipe  must  be  offered  to  the  Great  Spirit,  and  their 
old  men  must  lift  up  their  hands,  and  say,  "  Help  us  to  kill  our  enemies." 

Yet  sometimes  the  hot  blood  of  their  young  men  is  aroused,  and  it  may  not  be 
restrained.  In  1820,  thirteen  young  Chippewa  braves  went  out  against  the  Sioux. 
Others  of  their  tribe  had  called  them  cowards ;  they  had  lived  out  of  the  way  of 
the  Sioux,  and  had  not  as  often  as  the  other  bands  been  engaged  in  conflict  with 
them.  These  young  men  determined  to  redeem  the  character  of  their  band  by  the 
offering  of  their  lives.  They  set  forth,  to  sell  their  lives  dearly,  and  they  took  with 
them  a  comrade,  who  was  not  to  fight,  but  was  to  watch  their  actions,  to  see  them 
die,  and  afterwards  to  report  all  that  occurred,  faithfully,  to  the  tribe  at  home. 
They  went  out  with  brave  and  undaunted  hearts,  and  only  the  comrade  returned 
to  tell  all,  as  they  desired. 

They  had  attacked  the  Sioux,  and  fought  nobly.  More  than  twice  their  number 
fell  before  their  tomahawks,  at  the  first ;  but  they  were  finally  overcome,  and  died, 
tomahawk  in  hand,  dealing  out  death  at  every  blow.  Their  young  friend  succeeded 
in  returning,  as  I  have  said ;  and  it  was  a  melancholy  pleasure  to  the  relatives  of 
the  warriors,  to  listen  as  he  recounted  their  death-scene.  It  is  the  glory  of  an 
Indian  to  pass  from  the  battle-field  to  the  land  of  souls ;  the  triumphant  death-song, 
which,  like  the  music  of  the  swan,  dies  out  with  the  parting  breath,  is  renewed  in 
that  strange  but  lovely  country  where  the  billowy  waves  of  flowers  bound  and 
rebound  on  the  sea-like  prairie,  which  as  eternity  itself,  stretches  out  till  the  soul 
nor  the  mortal  eye  can  see  a  limit. 

When  the  Indians  meet  in  council,  they  adorn  themselves  with  more  than  ordi 
nary  care,  and  the  utmost  parade  and  ostentation  is  shown  in  their  motions  as  well 
as  in  their  dress. 

Women  have  no  voice  in  the  councils  of  their  people;  yet  there  have  been 
exceptions  to  this  rule.  Bed  Jacket — "the  last  of  the  Senecas" — presented  the 
wishes  and  views  of  a  number  of  women  of  his  tribe  as  worthy  of  consideration. 
In  the  Northwest,  rare  instances  have  been  known  of  a  woman  coming  into  the 
council,  in  the  place  of  her  husband.  Once  a  very  aged  woman  came  forward,  and 
said  her  husband  was  old  and  blind,  and  had  sent  her  to  the  council-scene  to  repre 
sent  him.  She  was  old  and  feeble  herself.  Yet  this  is  an  unusual  event.  Woman 
has  the  heavier  burdens  to  bear,  while  her  husband  plans  and  executes  his  favorite 
pursuits. 

The  light  of  the  great  council-fire — its  blaze  once  illumined  the  entire  country 
we  now  call  our  own — is  faintly  gleaming  out  its  unsteady  and  dying  rays.  Our 
fathers  were  guests,  and  warmed  themselves  by  its  hospitable  rays ;  now  we  are 
lords,  and  rule  with  an  iron  hand  over  those  who  received  kindly  and  entertained 


84  EASTMAN'S     AMEKICAN    ABORIGINAL    PORTFOLIO. 

generously  the  wanderer  who  came  from  afar  to  worship  his  God  according  to  his 
own  will.  The  very  hearth  where  moulder  the  ashes  of  this  once  never-ceasing 
fire  is  becoming  desolate — the  decaying  embers  sometimes  starting  into  a  brief 
brilliancy,  and  then  fading  into  a  gloom  more  sad,  more  silent,  than  ever.  Soon 
will  be  scattered,  as  by  the  winds  of  heaven,  the  last  ashes  that  remain.  Think 
of  it,  0  legislator !  as  thou  standest  in  the  Capitol — the  great  council-hall  of  thy 
country ;  plead  for  them  "  upon  whose  pathway  death's  dark  shadow  falls." 


THE    END. 


T 


Yrt  02031 


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